


Dark Intentions

by dragonfly_moonlight



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 9-11, America is not the hero, America is the hero, American Civil War, Angst, Character Death, Cold War, Current Events, Drama, M/M, Pearl Harbor - Freeform, Revolutionary War, Supernatural Elements, War of 1812, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonfly_moonlight/pseuds/dragonfly_moonlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is in a state of political and economic turmoil, has been for some time now, and the nations snapping and biting at one another. One bears the worst of it, the one they can't seem to leave alone. In the end, they'll realize just how much they truly need him, but, by then, it could be too late. multi PoV story</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The World Conference, Minus One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or the major cast. I do not profit financially from writing this story.
> 
> Author's Notes: This is my third story for the Hetalia fandom, but the first one to be posted. You _will_ find historical references and current event references.
> 
> I debated the direction in which I'd take this story . . . if I intended to borrow from a story called America's Birthday (Russia x America story - can be found on ff.net and dA by Nenema) or if I'd rather go in an opposite direction. I've chosen a slightly different approach.
> 
> Warnings: Dark themes, language, magic use, referenced rape and torture, and character death. As the stories progress, the Contains Mature Content will be used.
> 
> Rating: PG13, bordering on R.
> 
> Pairings: America x England, America x France, America x Russia, and America x Canada. England x Canada, France x Canada, England x France. (You'll know them when you see them.)

Overhead, the skies darkened with dark, thick clouds. Lightning flashed, offering lamination in the shadow-covered lands. Thunder rumbled, and there was the promise of rain in those clouds. 

The weather echoed the overall mood of those gathered  dark, ominous, threatening. The leaders and the nations gathered  Italy, Russia, France, England, Germany, Austria, Prussia, China, Japan, Canada, Mexico, Cuba, Belgium, Hungary, Poland, Denmark, Spain, Finland, Sealand, Turkey, Greece, Romania, Belarus, Ukraine, Latvia, Sweden, Switzerland, Lithuania, and Estonia, as well as many others  wore pensive, worried, and angry expressions. The tension in the air had become palpable as those gathered sat in silence. What needed to be said had already been said, and no one was in agreement on what needed to be done.

Their subject of concern was the one nation not in attendance. Indeed, he and his leaders didn't even know they were in one place, holding this meeting. America, as of late, had become more and more aggressive, both towards his leaders (so the rumors said; whenever he appeared in front of Congress and the President, any cameras in the room stopped rolling) and the rest of the nations. Gone were the bright, cheerful smiles and infectious laughter. The younger country's eyes were blue ice swords and guns, his tongue sharp and as deadly as lightning. One never knew where it would strike or the extent of the damage until it was too late. 

Not that Russia blamed the younger nation for his feelings. Though some of their old disputes had resumed, he and America somehow had managed to maintain somewhat friendly relations, and he saw many of the same things his friend and rival did: The American nation was in turmoil.

He wasn't just in turmoil with his leaders. What he told them behind closed doors, no one truly knew, but the talks, the arguing, the political backstabbing were taking a toll on him. When he was around the other nations, it showed, but they didn't seem to notice his plights. He'd been on the verge of snapping for some time, and, at one of the last world conferences, the pre-destined event happened. America had finally seen Cuba verbally and physically abusing Canada, of all nations, for things done in the past, the mistakes that _America_ had made and for America's ideology. The sight had only served to fuel whatever rage the young nation already felt with his leaders and the other nations, so, rather than try to discuss things rationally with Cuba as he normally tried, he'd simply punched the island nation.

 _"You stupid idiot!"_ America's words still rang in Russia's mind. _"How the hell can you mistake Canada for **me**? We might look alike but we're nothing alike! **Nothing**! Only an idiot would make that kind of mistake! If you **ever** so much as lay a hand on him **again** , I **will** make you regret it."_

Russia had never seen Cuba's eyes so wide and so . . . fearful in those moments. The island nation could only stare with his jaw hanging open. To say America hadn't instilled a newfound fear in Cuba was an understatement. Russia felt it, too. America then turned around and assisted Canada to his feet. What happened next took everyone by surprise.

 _"Why didn't you tell me this was happening?"_ America demanded. Canada flinched.

_"I just . . . I . . . it didn't seem like . . . it's what you wanted to hear . . ."_

America's eyes flared. From the sidelines, anyone who was watching  and everyone was watching  saw it.

_"I don't want you tell me what you **think** I **want** to hear, dammit! I want you to tell me the truth. The **TRUTH**. I didn't fight a war with England _twice_ just over taxes without representation. I fought for the whole **damned** thing  freedom of speech, the right to bear arms, **EVERYTHING**. When you're in my lands, MY country, you have the **right** to speak your mind. I don't care if you weren't born there, when you're there, **IT'S STILL YOUR FUCKING RIGHT**!"_

'Still a right. After all this time, he'll still fight for that," Russia mused. He glanced at the faces surrounding him, each showing some form of discomfort over their current situation with absent nation. Canada looked positively ill. To his right sat Mexico and on his left, Japan. Anger registered on Mexico's face, but anger at what or who, he didn't know. 'No doubt, they are remembering and thinking about the same thing as I.'

At the last, not so secret world conference, the other nations lit into America. Apparently, they'd had enough of his attitude.

_"My country is in economic turmoil. What are you doing to do about it? Aren't you **supposed** to be the 'hero'?"_

_"It's all your fault we're in this mess."_

_"When are you going to pay up the money you owe me and my country? We can't keep loaning money to you forever. We have hungry mouths to feed."_

_"Like you've ever given a damn about Canada and what he's had to endure because of you."_

_"Stupid wanker."_

_"Zhis isn't zhe America show! Quit being such an ass."_

_"Self-centered bastard. You've always been in everyone else's business. How could you **not** know what was going on?"_

_"We'd be better off if **you** didn't exist."_

The last two remarks stung the younger nation the worst, and pity for him welled within Russia's chest. Naturally, America didn't know about Cuba intimidating Canada the way that he had. Hell, most of the other nations ignored Canada so they didn't know, either. In America's defense, he knew that the young nation was often too busy with the other nations and their crises. Putting his nose in the business of others? Yes, he was guilty of it, but they also _begged_ America for his help. To see everyone standing there, disapproving and chastising America angered Russia, especially since the other nations hadn't learned to leave him alone. 

America had _tried_ once to stay out of foreign policy, during World War II. His people were starving, heading to soup countries and migrating from one end of the country to the other just to seek work. America's concerns weren't necessarily with the rest of the world on September 1, 1939, the day Germany invaded Poland. 

For the most part, America had succeeded in staying out of World War II. He'd tried to follow Switzerland's example and remain neutral, trying to supplying both sides with much needed medicines. At the time, Russia had thought it to be very distasteful for America to try and play both sides, but, in retrospect, when your economy is fragile, you're fragile, and when your people need to eat, you do what you must in order to ensure their survival. Russia knew this quite well. When he'd finally joined the Allies* against Germany, it was to protect his people from further invasion. In looking back, Russia respected and admired America's decision to try and stay out of the war for as long as he had. Unfortunately for America, the other European nations were unwilling to leave him be, and Russia knew that knowledge could be used as ammunition against the other countries. He knew that he would use that information since he knew that Germany allegedly wanted an alliance with Mexico at that time. Hitler wanted to be able to invade and dominate America the way he'd begun to dominate most of the European nations, and England and France claimed they had the letters to prove such information. 

America never really saw those letters. Russia believed it was because England and France still treated him a gullible, impressionable child who would do whatever they asked of him. America was a larger, stronger country than they were combined, and it wasn't lost on them that, if he chose so, he could decimate them with a handful of swift, militaristic blows. 

Interestingly enough, Canada declared war on Germany long before America did, something the other countries seemed to forget. Eventually Mexico and most of the South American countries had as well. When the world united against them, Germany, Italy, and Japan didn't stand a chance. Russia wanted to remind everyone that part of America's nosiness stemmed from the fact they _wouldn't_ leave him alone, _and_ that, of the nations gathered, America paid more attention to Canada than what anyone realized. He'd heard the younger nation talking about playing catch, tag, and other games with his younger sibling, laughing as he did so. That wasn't ignoring Canada. That was being a good brother.

 _"You want me gone?"_ America asked. His voice had become extremely quiet, quieter than Canada, and void of any emotion. _"You hate me that much? Fine. Consider me gone. You won't ever see me again."_

With a calm Russia was certain he didn't feel, America walked out of the conference, stunning everyone assembled. He remained while his leaders did, but no one saw him for the rest of the time their leaders gathered. No one spoke to him, and no one had seen him since. His leaders still spoke and socialized with the rest of the world, still offered aid when and wherever possible, but no one had seen America, had seen _Alfred_ in some time.

After the conference, Russia would later learn that, in addition to economic, religious, and political woes, wildfires were burning across the U.S. nation. Several hundred acres of woodlands and communities were destroyed. To make matters worse, a heat wave had struck much of the nation, leaving the inhabitants, and America, all the more uncomfortable. The year prior, a record outbreak of twisters not only ravaged the countryside, but they attacked cities, killing more people than in the average tornado season. On top of that, an earthquake had struck near D.C. the year prior, and one of the news stations had uncovered evidence of his Department of Defense allowing Mexican drug dealers to walk with U.S. weapons into Mexico. (The younger nation had denied doing such a thing, vehemently so, saying it was stupid. Once the media coverage began, America looked the fool and a liar.) With such things to plague him, Russia no longer wondered why he hadn't seen the younger nation smile in so long. It was curious, though, how come no one had even sensed the heat that had radiated from the younger nation as he walked away. Also, as far as Russia knew, no one had even bothered to send aid to America, either to fight the fires or food, water, and blankets for those affected by the tornadoes. Yet, that same year, America had sent relief to Japan almost as soon as the earthquake and tsunami had struck. Indeed, the entire world tried to help the island nation through such devastation. The knowledge that America faced his own tragedies alone was enough to anger him, and it reminded him of his ill-treatment towards the younger nation during the Cold War. He'd been more than cunningly cruel to America, had done everything he could to break the man's spirit, but his people believed him far too much to allow such a thing to ever happen. When he thought of the things he'd done to America, Russia wanted to retch, but he still refused to apologize. What had been done was done. Neither of them could undo the past, and he'd done what he needed to do in an attempt to secure a victory over the smaller yet equally powerful nation.

"So what do you think we should do?" England said, finally breaking the silence, bringing Russia back to the present. "We certainly can't allow him to keep carrying on like this."

"Allow?" Russia echoed. "What do you mean by 'allow', comrade? He is his own nation."

"I think we should apologize," Canada began, and Mexico nodded his agreement, a surprise to Russia considering the somewhat volatile relationship he shared with his older brother. However, like so many times before, no one wanted to listen to him. One nation in particular spoke over him, as if he didn't exist, like he'd done so many times in the past.

"Just because he's his own nation doesn't mean he can act like a pompous ass whenever he feels like it," England said, snarling. 

"You mean the vay you're acting right now?" Germany growled. He sat next to Russia with Italy brothers on the other. "If he's become a pompous ass, it'sh because of you and the influence you've had on him."

"What?" England's eyes flared. 

"He is right, comrade," Russia said. "You're the one who supposedly had control over him in very beginning. Everyt'ing he's learned, he's learned from you." He then focused his attention on Canada. The younger nation seemed to shrivel in his chair. "Now, you said somet'ing, comrade Canada. I t'ink everyone should hear."

From the corner of his eye, he saw England's jaw drop. The room itself had become silent, so much so Russia thought that, if someone dropped a pin, not only would they hear it, they'd jump. However, the large nation refused to look at anyone other than Canada. The only one he'd listen to at this point was Canada.

And the younger nation trembled now that he had Russia's attention. It wasn't to say that Canada was an extremely small country. If anything, in terms of land mass, he was larger than America, but he was also the younger one, the forgotten son because his older brother happened to be strong-willed and independent. He wasn't used to the attention, obviously, and so it took him several long minutes to even find his voice.

"I-I said I-I think we should apologize," he stammered. All at once, the other nations exploded.

"Apologize! What should _we_ apologize for?"

"He's the one who can't keep out of our business!"

"Stupid git thinks he knows everything!"

"And he's spent my money like there's no tomorrow!!"

"He should be obliterated from the map!"

"He's also not asked for help from any of us in a time of crisis!" Canada blurted out, raising his voice for the first time . . . ever. His older brother had no qualms about shouting at someone in order to be heard. However, the younger nation hadn't stopped trembling. Russia wondered at this. Canada's discomfort and the look of illness grew. A quick grasp of the hand from Mexico stabilized him. There were even tendrils of fear in his eyes. Something had rattled him, and Mexico, so much so he spoke without hesitation and his voice grew louder. "Not once! The only time in the last twenty years that we've stood behind him without him even asking us was on September 11. _That_ was it!"

"That's because he's a stubborn, bloody wanker," England spat. "He's too damned full of himself!"

"Agreed . . ."

"Agreed?" Canada echoed. " _Agreed_?! Have you listened to yourselves? _Are_ you even listening to yourselves? If he asks for help, you consider him needy! If he doesn't ask for help, you call him a stubborn, arrogant fool. He can't win! With any of you!"

"What do you mean, he can't win?" France demanded. "He _always_ wins!"

"Really?" Russia observed as anger, genuine anger, registered on the younger nation's face. In those seconds, he saw in Canada what so many saw in him when he was angered, and a chill washed over him. Perhaps he wasn't the meek little mouse everyone thought him to be after all. Perhaps he was more dangerous than what anyone realized. "He always wins?"

"Well, yes . . ."

"Dear lord in heaven . . ." Canada shook his head. His blond locks swayed this way and that, and it reminded Russia of America. "You're such fucking hypocrites!"

"What did you just say?"

"He's been fighting the same damned economic troubles that we have, he's facing countless natural disasters, his people are suffering, his own government is keeping secrets from him _and_ his people, and not once . . . not _once_ have any of us offered to lend him a hand. We're so wrapped in our own troubles that we're forgetting he's going through the _same damned thing_. But no . . . it would be too damned easy for any of us to remember that. We've got to place our burdens on top of what he's already dealing with, to hell with any consequences!"

"Aren't heroes supposed to be able to handle everything?" England said in a snide tone. "Seriously, at this point in time, I think we'd be better off without him."

"You have no idea of what you're saying," Canada murmured. "You have no idea of how much we need him . . . and how he needs _us_. There are things he can do that you can't even imagine."

"Oh really. We don't know what is we're saying?" England sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "And what makes you so sure that we don't? You've been blamed enough for the trouble he's caused over the years. Why are you so keen now on defending him now?"

"Because," Mexico said, finally breaking his silence, "of how quickly the rest of you are forgetting the past. Or is simply that you don't want to remember?"

"You mean like how his people wanted to boycott me and nearly bankrupt me?" France growled. "Oh, I haven't forgotten zhat, and it is zomething I won't ever forgive!"

"There is somet'ing you're not telling us, comrades," Russia said. "What is it?"

At his quiet remarks, the entire room quieted, and Mexico and Canada glanced at each other. Their actions only confirmed the guess, in Russia's mind, and he leaned forward. There was something else, too, and it tied in with the fear in the younger nation's eyes. It now reflected in Mexico's eyes. Russia felt his eyes narrow, and he stood up.

"You have seen comrade Amerika lately."

"No." Canada shook his head. "Not lately."

"We both saw him once, Senor Russia," Mexico murmured. "After the last world conference in which he and his leaders attended . . ."

"He . . . apologized," Canada said. "To the both of us . . ."

"He spoke with a sincerity that I'd forgotten he possessed," Mexico murmured. The two were no longer looking at anyone, not even each other. "It is the first time I have seen him so . . . vulnerable . . . and lonely. I believed him when he said he didn't know about operation Fast and Furious**, that, if he had known, he would have fought against it. I forget . . ." The dark-haired nation paused. "I just . . . forget . . ."

"Vhat did he say he vas going to do?" Germany asked.

"He didn't say anything," Canada replied. "Other than apologizing. Not to me, anyway."

"The same with me," Mexico answered. "He apologized, agreed that our countries needed to work harder on solving the issues between us, and then he left."

"So vhy . . ."

"Because . . ." Canada hesitated. "Because . . . because of the things England taught us when we were younger . . . the spells, the summonings . . . it wasn't too far from what we already knew."

"You mean zhe magic of zhe Native Amerikans?" France sounded dubious. "I zhought we'd zaved you from zhat."

"Saved?" Mexico laughed. It was a bitter and harsh sound. "I wouldn't call it saving us from anything. More like trying to destroy something precious within us. The land is older than we are. It gave birth to us, but America, Canada and I . . . we are not so old as to have forgotten what it is our ancestors taught us."

"And if you combine it with what England taught us," Canada murmured, "I'm afraid that my brother could and will do something we would never expect him to do."

"Whatever it is, we can handle it," England said. "I remember those old Native American tricks. They were no match for me."

"No offense, but you couldn't combine your magic with theirs," Mexico retorted. "My half-brothers and I _can_. What do you think will happen if our older brother decides that's what he's going to do?"

"Comrades, I believe you should start at beginning," Russia said. "What is it you t'ink will happen?"

The two glanced at each other once and, this time, they needed. Canada inhaled a deep breath, sitting back down.

"It's like this," he murmured, and everyone gathered leaned forward to listen . . .


	2. China

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a poll up at fanfiction.net asking for character PoVs for chapters eight and nine. The ones to choose from are as follows: Austria, Hungary, Prussia, Poland, Ukraine, Australia, New Zealand, Sweden, Denmark, Netherlands, Finland, Switzerland, or Other. If you vote "Other", please specify in your comments about who I should use. You can vote for no more than two, and, once you've voted, that's it. If you wish to change your mind, please leave me a comment stating that you wish to change your mind and why.

_Three weeks later_

China fought the urge to heave a weary sigh. The meetings with his boss were among some of the most tedious but necessary tasks he had to endure throughout the day. They hardly changed, the talks ranging from economics, foreign policy, state affairs, and the like, and he couldn't wait for this particular day's agenda to end. The chrysanthemums were almost in bloom. He wanted to at least take a few moments to enjoy their fragrance and beauty before the Double Ninth Festival started.

Normally, he didn't mind the meetings with his boss. The man understood that he, Yao, was something unique amongst those working in the government, someone who remembered the old ways, respected and cherished Yao for that, and valued the embodiment's thoughts and advice on all aspects of politics and some in life. China loved to feel cherished and revered, despite the fact there were times when he felt his age. This day happened to be one such day, where the weight of his years draped around him like a cloak, and he wanted to be outside and to simply be . . . Yao.

'Too much sadness,' he thought. 'Too much turmoil. Why can't anyone see we're trying our best?'

What China presented to the world and how things were in his lands were two different things. As far as he was concerned, the other nations didn't need to know of his personal problems. He'd seen too much in his long years. He was perhaps the only country that had been alive the longest, since Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, and Ancient Egypt passed away. It made him feel . . . lonely in knowing that.

'Funny how Japan acts more like the old man than me,' he mused. It brought a slight smile to his face but then it disappeared almost as quickly.

"Is everything okay?"

China slowly lifted his head to gaze at his boss. Concern was in the other man's eyes, concern and confusion. For years now, China had been riding on a high of economic prosperity, even as other nations faced one financial crisis after another. He held the majority of America's debt in his hands as the younger nation struggled with regaining some kind of financial freedom. Japan, of course, held some of the younger nation's debt but it wasn't in the range as to what China himself held. He wasn't sure if it was something he should be proud of or ashamed of, but it was something he knew he could use against the other nation at any time he wanted. In a way, it did make him feel powerful to have someone as strong as Alfred under his thumb and quite possibly for as long as China wanted to keep him there. However, economics were only one part to the health of a country. There were the land, the people, and politics. There was unrest in his lands. It'd been there for years, and he'd wanted to handle it on his own. He didn't want or need the help or input of others on how to care for his people. It was why he and his government tried to keep as tight of control over the things the other nations heard in their news casts. He didn't believe in flaunting his troubles and going into histrionics the way the European nations and America seemed to like to do. China offered the man a smile and a nod.

"Yes," he said. "I'm fine. It's just . . . feeling tedious today."

His boss nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"I agree," he said. His gaze went to the window of his office. "It has been feeling most tedious today, and the day hasn't even begun yet."

"Perhaps we should call it a day?" China asked, hopeful. "The chrysanthemums are starting to bloom, and I'd love to walk among them before the festival begins."

"I wish," his boss said with a snort. He also looked a tad bit uncomfortable. Something was going on, and China knew it by looking at the man. "Unfortunately, I was contacted this morning by the American embassy . . . it seems the ambassador wants for us to set aside some time for an envoy coming from her country."

"An envoy?" China sat up, and his eyes narrowed. Already, he felt suspicious. "What kind of envoy?"

"She didn't say," the man replied. He frowned and tapped two of his fingers together. It was a nervous tick of his, China had noticed. "In fact, it's the first time I've actually heard from her in a few days. She sounded . . . dazed . . . I don't know. She didn't sound like her usual stern self."

"What _did_ she say about this envoy?"

"Just that it was important and that the person leading this envoy specifically requested to meet with me . . . and you."

China scowled upon hearing this. He didn't like it. There was just something about this that felt off and just . . . _wrong_. He didn't want to meet with any envoy from America. He believed they were coming to ask for more money, like they'd been doing for the last several decades, and he wasn't feeling in a very generous mood at the moment. Despite what he'd heard Canada and Mexico say about America at the last world meeting, he still felt a certain sense of disgust, aggravation, apathy, and . . . lack of amiableness towards the nation. He certainly was more than displeased and angry with Alfred F. Jones at the moment, and the last thing he wanted was to see the American beg and plead for assistance China wasn't in the mood to give. He'd heard the rumors. Trading had almost stopped on Wall Street. No one wanted to invest any money, and it certainly felt to be true (most Americans weren't investing in the Chinese markets at this point and the Chinese were now refusing to trade with them as well). Undoubtedly, it was hurting America, it was why he was finally coming out of hiding, and China . . . well, he just didn't care anymore. He truly wished the nation would simply up and die. Why he thought that Alfred was in his country, he didn't know. He hadn't seen the American in a number of years. It was . . . just a feeling he had, and it wasn't one he was going to ignore. The younger nation probably intended to try and be preachy about how he, China, treated his people and how he and his leaders should be kinder, less restrictive with them. Oh, and he couldn't forget how America and his leaders wanted China to remove some of the import taxes on their goods so they could make more money. It was nauseating and disgusting, and China wanted to hear nothing of it. His country had better things to do with its money than constantly bailing out a nation who couldn't keep his financials together.

"When are they supposed to get here?" he asked, folding his arms in front of his chest. It made him look like a petulant, pouting, and ill-tempered child. "And why weren't we told sooner than this?"

"She asked that we meet with them just before we break for lunch. I tried to beg her off on it, but she insisted, kept saying it was important," his boss said. "They were preparing something . . . I'm not sure. I heard a lot of movement and someone issuing orders. I was assured that it wouldn't take long, despite its importance. As for why . . . I don't know."

"Is America here? Did she say that?"

"No . . . but he is here," the man replied. "I heard his voice somewhere in the background. I know I did. His voice . . . very distinctive."

"Ai yah," China muttered, shaking his head. He rose to his feet. "I'm in no mood to deal with him or his histrionics. _You_ deal with the envoy."

"Your presence was requested as well," his boss said. He, too, rose to his feet, alarmed.

"I don't care," China growled. "I don't wish to see America right now. I don't wish to hear his annoying voice. If I do, I may end up punching him in the face."

"That would not be good for diplomatic relations," his boss said. "It could start a war . . ."

"Then all the more reason for me to leave," China retorted. "Whatever is that they want, we're done with assisting them. They can get themselves out of their own troubles. We have enough to deal with in our country. I'm tired of them trying to drain us dry with their neediness. It's time we took care of our own."

China didn't bother to wait to hear his boss's response to that. He strode towards the door of the office and left.

* * *

The chrysanthemums were decidedly very beautiful this year. China had spent the last two hours walking in his private garden of them, taking in the bright golds and ambers, the pale pinks and lavenders, and the crisp white of each flower, and he inhaled a deep breath. For the first time that day, he felt . . . better, a little more relaxed, and he allowed a smile to creep onto his face.

It had taken over an hour, after leaving his boss, for the tension to ease out of his muscles. He'd only started to relax when it became apparent his boss wasn't going to call him back to help in dealing with America and his envoy. He knew his boss could order him back at any time  there was a reason why the embodiments didn't govern over themselves, why they had bosses in the first place  but the man was wise enough to not push China when he became . . . pissy over certain situations and people, as it were. Of course, in order for his boss to call him back, China needed his phone, and he'd . . . left it inside, so as not to be disturbed.

'So peaceful,' he thought with a contented sigh.

His garden was magnificent, in China's mind. It couldn't be too large, but then it didn't need to be overly large. It wasn't as huge as some of the gardens he saw in England's lands or in America's, but it was still something. It was _his_ place to go to when the stress of his job as a nation grew too much to handle, to clear his mind and find that inner balance. A few song birds chirped and called out to him as he walked by their cages, and Yao stopped to listen, his smile still in place. He truly did enjoy quiet, simple moments. With how the world constantly changed, in science and technology and communications, there seemed to be very little time to enjoy simple and quiet moments. China remembered when life had felt less complicated, had actually _been_ less complicated. It was harder  finding food, seeking shelter  but there was less of the nosiness from other nations.

China stared at the birds for several more minutes before moving on towards a stone fountain in the center. The sound of the water falling with gentleness over the stones added to the soothing atmosphere of his garden, but, though he felt relaxed and mostly content, something still troubled China.

'Maybe I shouldn't have said to not give any help to America,' he thought, sitting on a bench. 'But I can't have him bleed me dry. He did it to France once. He could do it to me, too.'

It wasn't a pleasant way to think, but, when he thought about it, China was able to admit, if only to himself, he didn't trust America. He _couldn't_ trust America. The blond was simply too wild, too hyper, too unpredictable, and all too willing to spout off as if he knew what he was talking about, his ideas to be truth. What could a young nation like America know about how things worked anyway? It had taken countries like himself, England, France, and Russia _hundreds_ of years to learn the lessons that they had. It baffled him how America could easily claim he knew what would work best. America was _only_ two-hundred forty-five years old as a nation.

Begrudgingly, as he sat next to the fountain, lulled by the birds, water, and crickets (he kept those in his garden, too, for luck), China admitted to himself that he felt _awed_ by America and his people. They were _strong_ , and they were _determined_. He couldn't forget about the Summer 2012 Olympics, how at first his athletes were dominating in the medal count, with America and his athletes trailing close behind. He knew why they were dominating. They were doing what no other nation could afford to do at that time  build special schools to train for the Olympics. He wanted America's domination streak at the Olympics to _end_. He wanted to taste that victory that didn't come from war but from something else, something that gave the entire world hope as nearly every nation converged in one place for two weeks of games.

Sadly, it wasn't to be that way. At some point, the Americans made a comeback, earning more medals, more _gold_ medals, than China's athletes. Russia finished in third with England and Japan not too far behind. China hadn't understood how it had happened, and it was disappointing, not only to him, but to his people. When the Olympics were over, he'd decided the papers needed to tell their people that America won because his athletes had big heads and big chests. There was no other explanation for it. America didn't have any schools dedicated solely for Olympic training. He couldn't _afford_ it. China was the _only_ one who had such schools. How had America's athletes managed such a triumph?

As his thoughts wandered to the Summer 2012 Olympics, China noted how he'd seen America there. Like all of the embodiments, he had attended the event, sitting next to Canada and Russia with Mexico close by during the opening ceremonies. When they sat next to each other, the differences in the two North American brothers were quite evident. Canada's hair brushed against his shoulders, and a stray curl dangled in front of his face whereas America's didn't even reach his shoulders, Nantucket sticking straight into the air. Not too far from the brothers were England and France, each talking to each other and obviously ribbing each other about whose athletes were better, if their facial expressions were anything to go by. He'd noticed the strain on America then, had seen the telltale signs  dark circles and lines around his eyes, the tightness to his smile, the stiff manner in which he carried himself  but, like nearly everyone else, China chose to ignore it. Oh, he knew about the shootings in Aurora, Colorado  it was hard not to, not when nations like Canada, England, and France spoke of them in their newspapers  and he felt a slight twinge of pity for the younger nation, but he didn't dare approach. He and his athletes were there to prove that _they_ were the best in the world, not to discuss political and economic dilemmas. He didn't care if it happened to America, but _he_ wasn't about to be kicked out of England for the duration over money.

'I wonder how long America plans on staying,' China mused to himself. He leaned his head back, staring at the sky. The weather had been nice lately with right amount of rain and sunshine. 'Knowing him, he'll want me to take him on a tour of the country . . . again . . . and head into the places where we don't want people going . . .'

There were things, places, China didn't want people from the outside world to see. His lands were his lands, his people were his people, and he didn't want outside interference. He and his leaders would deal with dissidents as they saw fit, but, of course, nations like America didn't see it that way. U.S. ambassadors were notorious for helping the most vocal of Chinese activists in fleeing to safe havens around the world, specifically to their homeland. Of course, a small part of China felt glad when Chen Guangcheng escaped house arrest and landed in America, but, for the most part, he hated it when he couldn't stop people from escaping or sneaking off to America for what they believed would be a better life for them and their families. For a moment, he considered finding his original copy of _The Journey to the West_ and immersing himself into its pages. Even today, it was one of the best stories a person of his had ever told.

"Ai yah," he muttered. "When will it ever end?"

"Master Wang . . ."

China lowered his gaze from the sky to the man who'd entered his gardens. He was a simple man, dressed in a military uniform, and he was young. Like those who knew who China really was, he addressed the embodiment as was proper.

"Yes?" China inquired.

"The President requests your presence immediately," he said.

"Did he send you so I, too, would have to deal with America and his envoy?" China narrowed his eyes. The young man tilted his head, confused.

"America and his envoy?" the man echoed.

"Yes," China said. "America and his envoy. They wanted to meet with me and the President before we took our break for lunch."

"He didn't say," the man answered, "and it is nearly time for lunch now."

"And how did he seem when he sent you to come and get me?" China had yet to stand up, and he had no intentions of leaving at this point if his boss intended for him to deal with America after he'd made it clear he didn't desire to speak to the younger nation.

"Troubled."

"Troubled?" This caught China's attention, so much so, he ignored America's location.

"Yes, troubled," the man answered. "He wouldn't tell me why, and I didn't ask. He said for me to retrieve you."

"What did he say?" China stood up. He couldn't help but be curious as to what America and his envoy had to say that upset his boss.

"Only that it was urgent for you to return as soon as possible."

"Let's go then."

* * *

It usually took roughly twenty minutes to travel from China's home to his nation's capital building. Many business men and women were leaving their offices, so the journey took an additional ten minutes. By the time China strode through the doors, anxiety gnawed and chomped away at him. The feeling of _wrongness_ had returned, in full force, and he couldn't place why. He also felt that something truly important had just transpired, something he shouldn't have been there to miss, and it caused his gut to ache. He wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have said to not lend any aid to America. Given the younger nation's at times volatile nature, he could declare war and not need a reason why, other than he was tired of China being a Communist nation. America had broken Russia of that. China didn't doubt he could try and break _him_ as well.

By the time he reached his boss's office, China felt like a nervous train wreck waiting to happen. He took a moment to compose himself  it wouldn't do to rush into the room like a frightened chicken  then entered. The sight that greeted him baffled the embodiment.

His boss sat at his desk, where he'd left the man just a few hours prior. That in itself wasn't baffling. What _was_ confusing was the number of brief cases sitting in front of his boss. There were four of them, and they hadn't been there when China left. Upon his entering the room, his boss glanced up.

He was, as the messenger had said, troubled. He was also confused. China hesitated for a moment then took a cautious step towards the man.

"What happened?" he asked. "Where did this come from? What are in these?"

"I met with America and his envoy," his boss replied. "I was going to do as you suggested  tell them no on lending them any more money . . . like you, I'm sick of supporting them, and I was going to make it very clear when they arrived."

China nodded as he listened.

"When did they get here?"

"About half hour after you left, and I was prepared for them. I was prepared, and I was going to tell them 'no' because I know you are right. They need to fix their own mess. I greeted them but not kindly. I was ready for the inquiry for more money and to go to the places that we don't want them to go, like they usually do when they're here. Instead . . ." His boss paused and took a moment to lick his lips. It was a nervous habit of his, one he only performed in front of Yao. "Instead of asking for money, they presented me with these. I didn't offer lunch. I did nothing except accept. . . . this . . . and I forgot to thank them . . ."

"What's in them?"

"Over payment."

"Over . . . wait, what?"

"They have paid back their debt to us," his boss said. "Every yuan they've borrowed from us is in these cases and then some."

China felt himself fall into a chair, stunned and confused. He'd thought for sure upon hearing that an envoy from America (that undoubtedly _included_ the nation's embodiment), that they were there to ask for more money, to help boost their sluggish economy once more, and to beg that China ease up on his trade restrictions with them. He had every reason to believe the rumors about Wall Street. Trading between the two countries was down. He'd not expected payment on the loans.

'But if trading is down, why is he giving payment?' China wondered. 'I wasn't expecting this . . . not at all.'

It was then that the guilt started to settle over him, and China felt the heat slowly starting rise into his cheeks. Here, he'd been expecting _America_ to act like a child and throw a temper tantrum if he didn't receive what he wanted. Instead, _China_ had acted very much like the child, ignoring the envoy, ignoring America, and refusing the request to see him. To make it worse, instead of being a gracious host and offering up a meal to his guests, he _and_ his president simply let America and his people leave. Japan would skin him alive if he heard he'd been less than hospitable.

"Are they still here?" China finally managed to ask. It took him several long moments to find his voice, and he still didn't trust himself entirely to speak.

"America said they were heading back to their embassy," his boss said. "You think maybe . . . we should call them back?"

"Mm-hm," China nodded. The _wrongness_ from before grew stronger during this exchange, the realization that he'd been the one to act with less honor than his former ally, it made Yao sick. "At least . . . offer thanks and some food before they leave, yah? That would be the right thing to do . . ."

"I will call them . . ."

China simply watched as his boss dialed the American embassy. He watched as the man listened and waited for someone to answer the phone. He watched as his leader frowned and set the phone down, all in a sickening slow motion.

"No one is answering," he said.

"No answer . . ."

"Maybe they are angry we didn't offer lunch," his boss offered. "That could be it."

"Maybe . . ." China stood up. "You should get the money to the bank . . . before someone realizes it's here and tries to do something stupid . . . like steal it . . ."

"Yes . . . it is a lot of money . . ." Then his boss blinked. "Wait? Me? What about you? What are you going to do?"

"I am heading to America's embassy," he replied. "I can at least offer him thanks for paying back his debt."

"Of course," his boss answered. "That would be wise. That would be good. At least they will know we are not ungrateful for what they have done."

"Yes."

China exited his office while his boss started to issue orders. No thoughts ran through the embodiment's mind as he drove to the American embassy. His mind felt inexplicably blank, despite the fact there were some unanswered questions lurking in the recesses.

"Everything will be all right," he told himself. "Everything will be all right."

When he finally reached the American embassy, the _wrongness_ he'd been sensing all day slammed into him, and he stopped his car. There were no soldiers at the gates, and they were hanging open. There were no cars in the driveways. There were no signs of life. His eyes wide, China . . . no, _Yao_ scrambled out of his car and into the building. His heart hammered in his chest, and his lungs burned from the exertion, but Yao didn't care. All he wanted was to be sure that someone remained at the embassy. If someone remained, then things could be patched up. There would be no reason to worry.

Silence greeted Yao as he burst through the doors of the embassy. He heard no sounds coming from the humans who worked and lived there. Frantic, he searched every room, every floor, and the gardens. He found no stray pieces of paper, no clothing, no food. The only signs that anyone had even been in the embassy were the pieces of furniture, the freshly made beds, and the trees and flowers growing in the garden. Wringing his hands, Yao left, his senses telling him the Americans were already in the air and heading somewhere else.

There was no way his media wouldn't discover the fact that the American embassy was now vacant. Too many people walked by it every day to not notice. Someone would say something, and inquiries would be made. The last thing China wanted was for the other nations to start butting into as to why it had happened, and he felt most assured that they would. He and his boss had to gain control over the situation as quickly as they could and have their army prepared. Canada and Mexico's predictions about America hadn't included him emptying out his embassy, and China began to believe they were wrong.

America wasn't going to suicide.

America was going to declare war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Double Ninth Festival is an actual event celebrated in China. It's when the chrysanthemums are in bloom, and it's usually celebrated on the 9th day of the 9th month (hence the Double Ninth). In 1989, the Chinese government also designated it as Seniors day. For more information on this, and other Chinese festivals, please click here: [link]
> 
> China does have special schools set up for Olympic training. There is some focus on educational aspects, but the main goal of the schools is to create Olympic champions and "end" America's domination in the games. This was aired on the CBS evening after one Chinese swimmer came under scrutiny for how she earned her gold medal. (And on that note, if any other country had gotten the times that she had, including the U.S., that swimmer would be under the same kind of scrutiny. It isn't petty jealousy.)
> 
> Chen Guangcheng is a Chinese activist. People may remember hearing about him in the news. He's currently living in New York City, and, no, the Chinese government wasn't happy that he managed to escape house arrest thanks to the help of some U.S. officials. I don't recall their names being mentioned, though. (If they were, feel free to let me know.)
> 
> I listened to a news cast from Ireland last week (between August 21, 2012 and August 24, 2012) where a Tea Partier tried to argue with the President from Ireland. He knows more about our country than some of our own citizens, it seems, knew that China and Japan currently hold most of our debt, and didn't let the Tea Partier bully him into saying things that weren't true. (He also made the Tea Partier look like a total ignoramus, too.)
> 
> I'm intentionally not naming political leaders in this story, be it for the U.S. or other nations. I don't care if anyone thinks I should.
> 
> The shooting in Colorado took place after I wrote the first chapter. It gets mentioned in this.
> 
> Finally, in regards to China's behavior, it's definitely out of character and probably not at all like how most Chinese people think and believe. China (the real life country) doesn't allow much to slip out when it comes to the media and the rest of the world. It is very controlled there. And, yes, the Chinese media said the reason why the U.S. got so many medals in this year's Olympics is because Americans have big heads and big chests. It was completely omitted that China had a substantial lead in the medal count for the first part of the games.


	3. Japan

**_Four weeks later . . ._ **

**"And in international news, the entire world was stunned today when the U.S. government announced it was shutting down the Chinese embassy in Washington, D.C. and their five consulates in New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Houston, sending all Chinese officials and their staff back to their home country. Rumor has it that all of the U.S. embassies in China were shut down several weeks prior, but Chinese officials have refused to say. Trade between the two nations has come to a standstill, but there still is no official word as to why this is taking place . . ."**

Japan listened as the reporter spoke about the relations between China and America or the lack thereof. No one from either government had commented as to why the two were no longer in communications and trading with each other or why it had ceased in the first place. Neither had asked other nations to intercede, either, and it had the rest of the world watching with baited breath as to what would happen next. All the world knew was that America had shut down all of his embassies in China and was now doing the same in the U.S.

"He's such an ass! I can't believe he's doing this! Ai yah!"

He winced at his older brother's shout of irritation and indignation. Japan didn't necessarily like it when others shouted in his presence, preferring a tranquil and serene environment as much as possible. It was a habit he'd tried curbing in America as much as he could when the younger nation used to visit him, and he was of the mind to treat China the same way he'd treated America in such instances – a newspaper fan to the back of the head only once worked wonders on the younger nation. Japan felt it would do wonders for his older brother as well. Before he'd gone into isolation, America knew how far he could push Japan with his boisterousness, and he'd always been careful in not aggravating the island nation.

Japan also didn't hold the same precise opinion of America as his older brother. Oh, he saw what the rest of the world did in the blond nation – young, impetuous and filled with insane ideas; a bit of a wild card, always speaking with an authority no one believed he possessed, but it was also part of America's charm. He saw the world in ways no one else did – he hadn't lost that wonder of his surroundings, and he still believed that anything was possible. Once he set his mind to do something, he let nothing deter him, even when others said it couldn't be done. As a nation, he'd accomplished much in such a short amount of time. Most nations couldn't make that claim. Japan glanced at his older brother.

China had propped himself against a wall, his arms buried within the sleeves of his traditional dress shirt. His panda rested on the floor next to him, along with a cup of half-finished tea, and a scowl marred the older country's youthful face. He knew from that expression his brother wasn't happy _and_ that he was confused. America's actions baffled not only the rest of the world but China as well.

"Is that why you came here?" Japan inquired, shutting of the television. "To carr America-san an ass?"

"He's up to something," China muttered. "He's up to something. I just know it."

"You make it sound sinister," he commented, his tone light.

"He's paid off his debt to me," China snapped. "He overpaid, in fact, after paying only the absolute minimum and left without saying a word to me. How is that not up to something?!"

Japan sighed and shook his head. His older brother could be such a drama queen sometimes.

"Did you even see him when he was there?"

"No . ." China pouted a little.

"So you didn't even offer him any hospitarity when he was there."

"No . . ." Now his brother tried to shrink within the confines of his shirt.

"And that means you don't know what Amerika is pranning on doing, do you?" Japan pressed forward, more than a little miffed his older brother for being a rude host, as it were.

At that, China didn't move. He didn't speak.

"I thought you wanted Amerika to pay off his debt to you," Japan said. "You said as much to him at the rast conference he attended. Don't terr me you didn't mean it."

"I did mean it!" China snapped. "I just . . . I just didn't expect him to pay the remaining balance after being so sluggish with the original payments. His economy has been bad for years. I've heard the rumors. I've heard that his Wall Street hasn't been doing much trading. I'm sure you have, too. I was expecting him to beg me to help him out, to lend him some more money to keep him going, not to be paid back everything with interest."

"So why don't you carr him and tark to him?" Japan asked, knowing full well what the answer would be – can't call America. He isn't answering any of my calls. He hasn't since before the last world conference meeting.

"I don't want to talk to him," China grumbled. The island nation fought the urge to roll his eyes, sigh, and shake his head. It was basically the same answer, just worded differently.

"But you want to know what's going on with him, don't you?" Japan pressed.

"I want him to just disappear."

"Why?"

"Because I hate him! And I hate the fact that you _don't_ hate him!"

"You have no reason to hate him," Japan said. "At reast, not now, you don't . . ."

"But I do hate him," China said. "I hate how he always wanted to visit areas that are restricted to tourists. I hate that he was always telling me what to do and how to treat my people. He's still a young country. I hate that he got involved in Korea and Vietnam. What does he know?"

Japan said nothing to that. What his older brother spoke of was petty, insignificant even, in the grand scheme of things. China had never once faced America's true wrath. _He_ had. He knew just how capable and how _intelligent_ the younger nation truly was, and he never forgot it, either. America simply hid behind a mask of happiness, bubbliness, and hyperactivity because it was what _others_ expected of him. Japan folded his hands in his lap, the memories of the atom bombs dropping on Hiroshima and Nagasaki still fresh in his memories. The burn scars had never faded from his body. He still felt the loss of all those lives from those attacks. There were times, late at night, when his mind reeled from the effects of the radiation poisoning. If anyone in this world had reason to hate America, it was Japan and it was for the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

But then, it stood to reason that America had reason to hate Japan as well. He'd pulled the young nation into World War II, something he'd been trying to avoid for as long as he could. In his short years as a nation, America, _Alfred_ , had experienced everything other nations spent _hundreds_ of years learning and trying to get right. Japan thought of one of his first meetings with the younger nation, shortly after Custer had made his final stand in the American Wild West.

_"What was he rike?"_

_It was warm outside. The two nations sat next to the window, staring out at the summer blooms. Several months had passed, and word of the battles on the American plains between the U.S. Army and American Indians were reaching the island nation. Of those battles, Japan found himself fascinated by one man in particular._

_"Huh?" America's blue eyes blinked, confused. Japan fidgeted in his seat, thanks to a small tremor of excitement. It was his second meeting of the week with the younger nation, and he'd to ask about the battles taking place between the American Indians and America's army. He'd heard of the Battle of Little Bighorn. He'd heard of Custer's last stand._

_"Generar Custer . . . what was he rike? You did know him, right?"_

_"Oh . . ." For a moment, the young nation's expression was troubled and uncertain. Japan knew that most of America's people thought the General to be a hero, that the Indians living there respected the man so much that they hadn't mutilated his body in battle, and he was curious as to what the embodiment thought of such a great person. He thought America would be proud of such a man, but, upon seeing his expression, he wasn't so sure._

_"Is there something wrong?" he asked. "Have I offended you?"_

_"No . . ." America shook his head. "It isn't that. It's just that . . . I didn't know you'd heard about Custer._

_"Oh . . . but you did know him?" Japan leaned forward._

_"Of course. I know every commanding officer in the Army," America replied. His hands started to fiddle with his teacup._

_"So what was he rike?" Japan inquired, not failing to notice the younger nation's nervous behavior and change in attitude. He didn't exactly seem comfortable talking about one whom many Americans were calling a hero. "You must be proud to have such a hero amongst your peopre._

_"I wouldn't exactly call Custer a hero."_

_"You wourdn't?"_

_"No . . ."_

_"Why . . .?"_

_"Because it isn't exactly heroic to murder defenseless women and children and call it a battle," came the bitter reply. The younger nation averted his gaze to the gardens._

_"Surery the Indians he fought respected him," Japan said. He felt confused. Hadn't Custer done what America had wanted him to do?_

_"No." America shook his head. "They didn't respect him. Not at all."_

_"I don't understand," Japan murmured. "I heard about his farr, that he was the rast to die . . . I heard they cut off an ear and a finger. Isn't that a sign of respect?"_

_"He wasn't the last to die." At this, America's gaze traveled from the window to his hands. "He was the first to die. He was a lousy leader. As for the Indians cutting off his ear and his finger at the end . . . It's their way of saying he was a poor listener and a thief," the younger nation replied. "He didn't respect them . . . he didn't listen . . . They cut off his ear and his pinky finger so they'd know him in the afterlife and that maybe there he'd listen to them better. Jim Bridger tried to warn him. He wasn't exactly a very bright man. His soldiers were more feared than he was."_

'Is that how you felt on those days, America? When your people dropped those bombs and killed my children?' Japan thought. He still felt the phantom pains from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and often when he least expected. 'More like a villain than a hero? I never asked you . . .'

He barely remembered the meetings between his boss, America, and his boss in those days. His mind had felt cloudy and feather-light, but he remembered America, remembered _Alfred_. He hadn't been smiling. Too much had happened, too much had changed, and Japan knew he'd done something to sever his friendship with the younger nation. The attack on Pearl Harbor had come from out of nowhere, all because Japan and his boss had signed an agreement with Germany and his new boss, and Alfred undoubtedly felt betrayed by Japan's actions. The attacks – Pearl Harbor, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and the air raids done on Tokyo – they'd changed the way he and America interacted with each other. The younger nation dismantled his army but vowed protection. Japan didn't think the disbanding of his army and the vows of protection were so much because America felt protective of him but wary, concerned, and mistrustful. Neither could have what they'd had before the war, but they certainly tried to forge better relations afterwards. It took them some time, but their people managed the transition better than anticipated, and it was soon a love/hate relationship. Over the years, their people traveled back and forth, exchanging cultural and intellectual ideas. Japan's people embraced the technology. When the earthquake and tsunami struck in 2011, Alfred and his people were the first to lend a hand, bringing in anything the island nation required. There were shadows in America's eyes then, just as there had been shadows in his eyes after dropping the bombs.

In thinking of the past, Japan knew, _felt_ he had more reason to hate America than his older brother. A part of him still did, but he also knew that the past was the past. The younger nation had been repentant for the damage caused by his atom bombs, seeing first hand the damage and after effects of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and he'd done everything he could to help Japan recover and rebuild. In the meeting that followed between the two nations, it was the only time Japan had ever seen America cry.

"He _is_ planning something," China said. Japan tilted his head. "And it isn't the suicide Canada and Mexico mentioned."

"And how can you be so sure?"

"Because they never mentioned him closing down any of his embassies or sending ambassadors home. That's why. There is something off about all of this, and I don't like it."

"I stirr think you shourd carr him."

"He hasn't spoken to anyone in years!" China snapped. "He's accepted no phone calls and he's not sent any. Do you really think he'll answer after all this time?"

"Then go there," Japan answered.

"How?" China said, sneering. "All flights to and from the U.S. have been cancelled."

"What?"

"You didn't know?" China shook his head. "It's just happened in the last few days. All Americans abroad have returned home . . . or so the news reports are saying."

"Arr frights cancered?" Japan felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. He knew that many of his businessmen and women were frustrated because they couldn't reach their American contacts, and government officials were starting to express concern from the lack of communications from the U.S. officials. The embassies were quiet, and Japan's attempts to call the younger nation went unanswered. Was China right? Was America planning to declare war? China _was_ correct. The younger nation shutting down his embassies and ceasing trade with other nations wasn't how Canada and Mexico described things to them. Japan glanced at his older brother and narrowed his eyes.

"What's he done?" Japan asked.

"What do you mean?"

"There's reason why you're angry," Japan said, rising to his feet. "There's reason why you're here. What's he done to rire you up rike this?"

China turned his head away. Ironically, he looked out the same window America had when Japan asked about Custer, but the island nation chose to say nothing about it. Instead, he narrowed his eyes.

" _Yao_ . . ."

"Why should I say anything more?" the older nation muttered. "You . . . you will just take his side on this anyway. You always agree with him and his insane ideas. You don't care who you hurt when you do . . . Ai yah . . ."

"Don't pretend you know how I think," Japan growled. He started to say more. He wanted to say more, and he'd risen to his feet in order to make sure his older brother heard his words.

In those moments, two things happened that prevented Japan from speaking his mind. The first was his cell phone ringing. He glanced at it, noting it was his boss. Glaring at his brother, he answered.

"Moshi, moshi . . ."

 _"Moshi, moshi, Kiku,"_ his boss said. _"I've just spoken with the Amerikan ambassador, and he's requesting a meeting with you and myserf."_

"A meeting? After days of not contacting us?" Japan said. At this, China finished his tea and rose to his feet.

"I will talk to you later," he murmured. "Thank you for the tea, Kiku. I've enjoyed your hospitality."

The second thing to happen was watching Yao as he walked out the door while Japan's boss continued speaking. Overwhelmed and confused by the older nation's behavior, Kiku could only watch as he stepped out and disappeared into his car while his boss continued to speak.

_"Hai . . . a meeting but not with him specificarry. There is a deregation that's newry arrived from Amerika . . ."_

"I'd heard arr frights were cancered . . ."

_"Werr, yes . . . arr frights are cancered . . . This is a speciar deregation from Amerika . . ."_

"I'rr be there. When and where do they wish to meet?"

* * *

_"You stupid idiot! How the hell can you mistake Canada for **me**? We might look alike but we're nothing alike! **Nothing**! Only an idiot would make that kind of mistake! If you **ever** so much as lay a hand on him **again** , I **will** make you regret it."_

Getting to the Metropolitan Government Building in Shinjuku ward at the appointed time to meet with the American delegation proved to be more difficult in reality. With the Shich-Go-San around the corner, many of the local shrines were preparing for the young visitors, and the streets, as always, were quite crowded as people commuted to and from work. Many were also out and about for the sake of being outside and to enjoy the nightlife of Tokyo.

The drive there frustrated Japan. He didn't know what the American delegation wanted with this meeting, but he knew that America himself was amongst the delegation. He'd felt it the moment the younger nation stepped off the plane. There was something else, too, he'd noticed, an immense level of wrongness. He couldn't place what it was or why it was even there. The sensation left him feeling anxious and vulnerable. Japan hadn't felt such an overwhelming feeling helplessness in a long time, not since the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima and the air raids of Tokyo. In his mind, he saw America.

_"This is so cool!" the younger nation crowed before laughing. They were at the top of the tallest tower in the country, and America was more than impressed. He was absolutely elated, and Japan couldn't help but wonder how the bubbly, blue-eyed blond would react to seeing the world's tallest roller coaster, which was also in his lands._

_"Can you tell me how to make friends with whales?"_

_"I don't understand . . . Can you tell me why? Why did you decide to attack me like that? I thought we were friends."_

_"Kiku, I'm so sorry . . . I shouldn't have . . . I didn't . . . I'm so sorry . . ."_

_"You want me gone? You hate me that much? Fine. Consider me gone. You won't ever see me again."_

'It's just my imagination,' he told himself. Still, the _wrongness_ didn't stop him from trying to drive a little faster than what he normally would.

He reached the government building as the sun started to set. The first thing Japan, _Kiku_ , noticed was the number of government cars lining the streets. One car stood out amongst the others, the miniature American flags flapping in a light breeze. Several uniformed officers stood guard and waved to Japan in acknowledgement as he ran to the building, flashing his government I.D. in the process.

By the time he reached the designated meeting area, Japan realized that America wasn't among the delegation, as he'd originally believed. He wanted to see the younger nation, to talk to him, and to simply . . . he didn't know. The entire drive from his home to Shinjuku ward, he remembered all of the times he'd seen America displaying a wide array of emotions, including the anger and hurt from when the younger nation was last seen at a world conference. It was the first time since the end of World War II where Japan felt his anger and frustration with the younger nation reaching a boiling point. He'd still reeled from the effects of the earthquake and tsunami as well as the feelings of nausea from one of the country's nuclear power plants reaching critical and the _wariness_ of his people towards his government on top of economic troubles. He didn't want to acknowledge that the younger nation was dealing with his own troubles. Like everyone else there, he just wanted to blame someone for his problems. Despite their friendship, America had made the perfect target, and Japan wanted to apologize for not speaking up in the younger nation's defense. It wasn't just America's fault the global economy suffered. Everyone played a part, and some things, like earthquakes and wild fires, were just beyond their control. Japan stepped into the room, and everyone assembled glanced at him. He didn't fail to notice four very large, silver briefcases attached by handcuffs on the Americans. The briefcases themselves were almost large enough to become carry-on luggage.

"Gomen-nasai," he said, bowing. "I hope I am not rate . . ."

The American delegates – three women and two men – bowed in return. One of the women smiled, a friendly gesture, but Japan couldn't help feeling there was something _off_ and _wrong_ with it. She was the only one without a briefcase attached to her wrist.

"No need to apologize, Honda-san," she said. "You're right on time. Shall we get started?"

"Of course," Japan's boss said. He gestured to the table, where they had tea waiting. The Americans each took a seat as did the Japanese officials in attendance. Everyone moved but Japan. When he didn't sit at the table with them, all eyes landed on him, and Japan, Kiku, felt each set of eyes boring into him.

"Honda-san?" the woman inquired. "Is there something wrong?"

"Iie," he said, shaking his head, but he still didn't move. "Forgive me for being rude, but I thought there wourd be another person here for this. Where is Amerika-san?"

"Oh . . ." the woman's smile disappeared. In fact, her face as well as the faces of the other Americans, displayed no emotions whatsoever as she continued, "America is unable to attend due to illness. He stayed behind at the embassy in order to rest."

"Then why did he fry here in the first prace?" Already, Japan knew he was being rude, but he couldn't stop himself from asking the question. It was ask the question of why Alfred chose to journey there in the first place or call the woman a liar. Tensions between America and China were already on the rocks for who knew what reason. The last thing Japan wanted to do was add to the mix by starting a fight with the country who provided him with military protection.

" _Japan_!" his boss hissed, scandalized. The woman held up her hand.

"It's quite all right," she said, her fake (that's all Japan could think of to describe the emotion in her actions) smile back in place.. "We do understand that it's been some time since our nation's embodiment has ventured to other countries. Japan-san's curiosity is only natural."

"O-of course," his boss stammered, laughing a bit nervously. "This is true. I must admit, I am arso curious . . ."

"America was feeling fine when we boarded the plane," she said. "It was simply something he ate along the way. It just isn't agreeing with him. That's all. If you'd like, I can let him know you asked."

'He arready knows I've asked,' Japan thought, but he couldn't dispute what the woman told him. 'It's why you're rying for him . . .'

He couldn't call her out on the lie, either. He had no proof other than a gut feeling that America was avoiding him for some reason, and China's words echoed around in his mind.

_"He's up to something. I just know it."_

"If you wourd, prease," Japan said, finally moving towards the table. Already, he decided he planned on visiting the American at his embassy. He wasn't about to let the younger nation leave without at least saying hello and talking with him.

"Of course," the woman replied. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

By the time the meeting with the delegation ended, Japan's eyes burned from exhaustion, and his thoughts tumbled around in confusion. He tried to latch onto the first thing that could make sense to him, and that was what the briefcases contained.

America had paid back his debt. Just as he had with China, he'd not only paid off his debt to Japan but overpaid. As with China, throughout the years since he was last seen, America and his government had been making sluggish payments of the minimum. Despite best efforts to boost the younger nation's economy, things remained slow and uncertain. Japan had seen a decrease in his usual exports to America – games, manga, and anime for translation, computer hardware, cars – over the years, and it was curious as to how the younger nation could afford to pay everything back. It was even more baffling as to how he could do so on the heels of paying off China. Had America raided Fort Knox?

Then there were the issues of defense and energy. In the delegate's hands were papers, stating that Japan could form his own military once more _and_ that, before the month ended, ships would arrive to help update and improve efficiency of the island nation's nuclear power plants. In the meantime, the U.S. military stationed in Japan would be training his people on how to fight and how to fly jet fighters. It would be a long process, but one, the delegate assured Japan and his boss, would be worth in the long run. Japan kept quiet as the delegation handed over the money (in yen; not American dollars) and the written agreements on what roles the two nations would play in the next several months. There were no requests for more money, and there were no requests for aid in a potential declaration of war. If China was correct and America _did_ plan on declaring war against the Communist nation, then why wasn't the younger nation asking for aid of some kind? The meeting continued for four hours as each point in the agreements was discussed, agreed to, discussed, and agreed to for a second time. Japan and his boss wanted to be sure they were hearing and reading everything correctly, that it wasn't some kind of a prank or trap. The entire time he sat through the meeting, Japan couldn't shake the feeling of _wrongness_ over the whole situation. In truth, while he was happy that America had paid off his debt, he didn't want all of the extras that were coming with the final payment. While he admitted to himself it would be nice to have his own army again, he didn't like where the current situation with America was heading, what it was ultimately going to cost Kiku in the end.

'There is onry one way to find out what is going on with him.'

Japan started to steer his car towards the American embassy. The younger nation remained in his country, and he believed that the blond nation wouldn't leave so soon after arriving, not if he'd eaten something that made him sick, a story of which Japan didn't truly buy the premise. He _knew_ America was avoiding him. He just didn't know _why_ , and he intended to find out. Unlike China, he wasn't going to do nothing while a good friend and an ally slipped away from him.

It took him longer than he would have liked it to for him to reach the embassy, thanks to the number of cars and pedestrians on the streets. When Japan pulled in front, he noticed right away that the building was quiet. Deathly quiet. There were no guards at the gates, the gates themselves were open, and the lights were off. There were no cars parked in front of the building, nothing to even indicate the place had been occupied mere hours earlier. Heading into the building, he found that the staff was gone. The only items that remained were the furniture and linens. There was no food in the pantries and no papers in the offices. Japan could only stare in shock and befuddlement, and he remained that way, even as he sensed America _leaving_ , the plane already in flight. Finally, as he gazed around, wandering from room to room, China's words floated back to him.

_"Because they never mentioned him closing down any of his embassies or sending ambassadors home. That's why. There is something off about all of this, and I don't like it."_

'Crosing down his embassies . . . sending ambassadors home . . . he's done this to China and now he's doing it to me . . .'

The realization hit Japan like a punch to the stomach, and he dropped to his knees. In anguish, he stared at the vacant rooms. There was so much happening, events kicking into motion that Canada and Mexico never mentioned, just as China had told him. Was his older brother correct?

Was America going to declare war?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Still taking votes for Chapters Eight and Nine, but I'm removing Prussia from the poll. I've already got a chapter slated for Germany, and I do believe it would be better for Prussia to appear in that chapter since it's quite possible he lives with Germany _anyway_. So Prussia fans, you're getting Prussia, and sooner than Chapters Eight and Nine (though which chapter he appears will be the surprise).
> 
> Regarding the story: The scene regarding General Custer was inspired by the movie, _The Last Samurai_ with Tom Cruise. _The Last Samurai_ , I've heard, is based on a true story about an American soldier who goes to Japan and is taken captive by a rebellion leader. If you've watched this movie, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't - WATCH IT. I won't say it's Tom Cruise at his finest, but, hey, it's got some Japanese history in it. What's not to love about that?
> 
> General Custer was, in fact, quite the idiot. (Sorry, Custer fans.) How he managed to become a General is beyond me - he was the bottom of his graduating class at West Point, and he'd done so horribly on his work there, that he almost failed _out_ of West Point. The Native Americans he fought against didn't respect him as a leader or as a warrior. According to my U.S./Native American history teacher (one in the same, different semesters at college), the cutting off of his pinky finger was the sign of a thief in their culture, and they also cut off his ear so that, when he saw them again in the afterlife, he'd be sure to listen to them. The hacking of the U.S. soldiers was done so that, again, in the afterlife, the soldiers couldn't rise up and fight them. 
> 
> Given his intelligence, Custer probably more accurately died at the very beginning at the Battle of Little Bighorn rather than at the end. Again, he wasn't a very bright man. I think America would know when one of his most "prominent" generals has passed away and exactly when, too. That's why I have him saying Custer was among the first to die, not the last.
> 
> Jim Bridger, for those of you who haven't taken any Native American history classes, is an actual historical figure. Johnny Horton sings a song about him called Jim Bridger. In the song, Jim warns Custer about fighting the Sioux nation, tells Custer to treat them fair and square. It also goes on to say that Custer didn't listen to Bridger and, because he didn't listen, at Little Bighorn, he died. 
> 
> As for why Alfred wouldn't be so enthused about Custer, one of Custer's so-called victories included the slaughter of a village where there were no warriors to protect the women, children, and elderly. Since this was before both World Wars, Korea, and Vietnam, I do believe Alfred would find the act of riding into an unprepared, defenseless village to be an act of cowardice and one that would nauseate him.
> 
> Moving onward.
> 
> Everyone knows about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Air raids were done on Tokyo as well just before Japan surrendered. According to my book on Tokyo (a city guide), a U.S. commander estimated that they'd killed around 100,000 civilians in Tokyo at that time. The U.S. and Japan, since the end of World War II, have a long-standing love/hate relationship. The U.S. also helped to rebuild Japan after that.
> 
> Everyone also knows about the earthquake and tsunami as well as potential nuclear disaster from March 2011. (If you don't, where have you been?)
> 
> I'm winging it on the exports from Japan to the U.S. I'm sure there's more, but the ones I could think of right off the top of my head are the ones listed. 
> 
> Moshi, moshi - how one answers the phone in Japan.  
> Hai - yes  
> Iie - no  
> San - Mr. or Mister or Ms.  
> Gomen-nasai - apology
> 
> This chapter is definitely longer than China's, but Japan is easier to write. (Sorry, China fans. I tried!)
> 
> If you see that I didn't mention something _here_ but it's in the chapter, please let me know so I can fix it. Thanks! And yes, if you find where I've made a grammatical or spelling mistake, you can tell me about that, too. Just make sure you include where you found it so I can fix it.


	4. 9/11 Interlude

_9/11 Interlude_

_No one knew or understood how he could stand with his back straight, his face expressionless, emotionless. He'd just suffered an attack to his lands and his people, the first one to hit since the bombing of Pearl Harbor in December of 1945. They'd expected him to be hunched over, still reeling from the pain, yet he stood straight, he stood tall, and he stood proud._

_Perhaps it was because of his stubborn nature  America had never been one to let anything get him down for long  that he refused to show weakness in front of them, that he even showed up for the meeting in the first place. No one failed to notice the blackened skin circling his right eye or the gash above his right temple. There were probably some more bruises and cuts where no one could see, all equally painful._

_They wouldn't have blamed him, if he'd decided to not show up for the meeting. The loss of life in such a short amount of time had to be breathtakingly staggering and_ **painful** _. Yet there he was, his face remaining expressionless as those who were his closest allies approached him. They_ **were** _concerned for him, for his people, and to how he would react to the attacks. Everyone knew his people were shocked, confused, and_ **outraged** _by what had happened. Who could blame them? In their eyes, the attacks happened for_ **no reason** _, and they wanted answers, justice, and_ **revenge** _. If it had happened to one of them, their people would feel_ **the same way** _._

_Those who approached him, they didn't really dare touch him even though it's what they wanted to do the most. There were tears in_ **their** _eyes, and they reached for him, expecting what, they didn't know. They just held out their arms, like a parent seeking to comfort a distraught child. In a way, that's what they were, the nations of England and France, America and Canada._

_For a moment, no one said a thing._ **He** _stood still, watching, wary, of those who'd had the biggest impact on his life before finally, hesitantly accepting their embraces. A tired yet reassuring smile appeared on his face, and he said he was fine, that he would be okay. It would take more than that to break him, he said. He was strong, and he would prevail. He would move forward. He had his people to guide him and give him his strength, after all._

_Little did they know how right they would be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eleven years ago today, the United States of America was struck with one of the worst tragedies since the bombing of Pearl Harbor in December of 1945 - four planes in total crashed, each hijacked by terrorists. As everyone remembers, two of the planes hit the twin towers of the World Trade Center. The third plane hit the Pentagon while the fourth crashed in a field in the Pennsylvania countryside. Over three thousand lives were lost in those dark moments and for the following week, this great nation was plunged into chaos.
> 
> This event, while it happened in the U.S., isn't just a tragedy for one nation. It's a tragedy for all nations. American lives weren't the only ones lost when the towers fell. It was called the _World Trade Center_ for a reason, my friends. People from various nations worked there, and people from various nations died that day. We shouldn't ever forget that it wasn't just one nation affected by acts of terrorism. It was many nations.
> 
> For those who died not knowing what the day was going to bring, for those who died trying to save the lives of others, and for those who survived and will always live with nightmares, this is for you. We love you, and we will never forget what happened.


	5. Chapter Four - Greece

_Three weeks later . . . (December 2021)_

Greece tried to not be bothered too much by the goings on in the world. Life would flow the way it was meant to, and, to an extent, there was no sense in worrying about the final outcome. He figured there was no sense in trying to manipulate the things that were beyond the realm of control. To try and do so was foolish, and there were more important things (and people) who deserved the concern. There was little sense in worrying over the economic cycles. Recessions, depressions, and prosperity were all part of the game. There were no easy fixes, despite the demands for such.

For some, his laid-back attitude caused a great deal of concern. His country struggled for years with economic and political troubles, and he took it all in stride. Many of his fellow nations thought he didn't care about his people for how laid back Greece approached his economic crisis. They even criticized him for his apparent lack of concern, but he'd learned a long time ago what emotions to show, when to show them, and to whom could be trusted with them. Even then, Heracles kept some things under close guard. Political situations were quicker to change, and an ally could quickly become an enemy.

It wasn't that Heracles wasn't concerned for his people. He worried over them more than he did the rest of the world. He just wasn't about to let it show in front of the other nations. The living embodiments of the nations were fickle at best, and, if one financially-strapped nation caught another nation in the midst of an economic struggle at the wrong time, the verbal lashing left a long-standing impression. The nation on the receiving hesitated to ask anyone for help. As the living embodiment who'd lived through many things, including his mother's fall, Greece had seen everything there was to see, but there were some things, situations and people, that continued to amaze him.

Like America.

He was the one nation everyone believed would ultimately fail. It wasn't just in his bid for freedom that most European nations thought he'd fail in achieving. England had built himself up to be quite the powerful nation at the time. He possessed the world's largest and most ruthless army at the time. The British Empire was feared and with good reason, and America was nothing more than a fledgling colony, one that had grown by leaps and bounds in only a few centuries instead of the thousands of years it normally took most nations. Despite France's interventions during the American Revolution, no one expected the young colony to defeat his caretaker. It simply wasn't done. There were rules to follow, traditions to be kept.

America broke all of them, not only by defying England, but by defeating the empire. Most of Europe at the time, after he won, thought he would fail in establishing himself as a nation. Greece remembered the whispers. Many of them _wanted_ him to fail so they could invade and establish their power in America's lands. Oh, they didn't say so out loud, but Greece knew it from the gleams in their eyes. America was a young nation. His ideals would see to it, or so they thought.

And they were proven wrong.

America didn't have the great start he'd envisioned. The rumors were all over Europe regarding the young nation's shaky beginnings, rumors undoubtedly started by England himself, but what no one knew, what no one talked about, was that America was insatiably curious. He'd visited Greece numerous times, both during and after the younger nation's revolution. He asked questions, he pored over ancient documents to form his ideas and to build up his government from out of nothing. Determination shone in his eyes, determination and fire, and Greece understood when he spoke with the young nation things were about to change. The sound of snow crunching under someone's feet brought Greece out of his musings.

"Am I disturbing you?"

Greece glanced in Japan's direction as the shorter nation approached him, and he offered his friend a slight smile. He could see the troubled look in Japan's eyes.

"No," he replied, shaking his head some. "You're not disturbing me. What is wrong? You look like someone has killed your best friend."

"I am troubred," Japan said. "Amerika . . . he isn't himserf. I worry for him."

To that, Greece could only nod at first. He didn't enjoy the same and unique love/hate relationship with America that he and Japan possessed. World War II had done quite the psychological number on everyone, and it had been a sign things were changing and fast. However, though he didn't have the same relationship with America as Japan, he still did have a relationship with the younger nation, and he wasn't completely blind as to what was going on in the world or with said nation. He also didn't doubt the island nation's words.

China's ambassadors to the U.S. returned to their homeland. Japan's ambassadors were on their way back to their country while all of America's ambassadors were returning to their homes. The majority of consulates around the world were closed or closing, _except_ for the primary embassies in every nation's capital. Everyone knew that America's army now trained Japanese men and women so they could establish their own army once more. Rumors of a third world war, which no one doubted America could start, were spreading like wildfire as to what it meant, but no one truly knew what was happening in the South American and African continents. The _only_ countries America had visited in the last three months were China and Japan . . . and now Greece. He knew America was there, had been for the last five days conducting business in the way the Greeks conducted business, and he could feel that there was something . . . off about the visit. None of his officials spoke with the embodiment of the American nation. He stayed within the embassy's walls, claiming illness, and only the Americans allowed themselves entry into the compound's grounds.

Japan reached him and sat down. If the coldness of the ancient stone bench bothered him, he didn't say. Greece hardly felt the chill anymore. A heavy sigh escaped the shorter nation, and Greece wondered if he should tell his friend that the one he worried over was in his lands.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked after several minutes of silence.

"I am not sure there is much to tark about," Japan said, sighing. It was such a sad sound. He lifted his head to gaze at the sky. Greece knew it was slightly overcast with the chance of snow coming in later. "I don't even know what is wrong."

"Have you tried contacting America?"

"Yes. Repeatedry." Japan sighed again. "Emair, phone . . . he doesn't answer."

"You're not sending him letters?" Greece inquired.

"There is no more mair coming from his country, and it can't reave mine." Japan bit his lower lip. "Who . . . who do think is right?"

"What?" Greece blinked. He hadn't expected that question.

"Who do you think is right?" Japan repeated. "Canada and Mexico berieve Amerika wirr kirr himserf . . ."

"I remember," Greece murmured. He shifted in discomfort. It was hard to imagine a nation committing suicide. He knew that nations could die. It happened to Ancient Rome, Ancient Egypt, Germania, his mother, and England's mother. Most everyone marveled at the fact that Prussia still hung around, though he was no longer recognized as a nation. After all, countries weren't just defined by their politics. They were defined by their lands, their boundaries, and their people. So long as the boundaries existed, so long as the people believed in their countries, said nation couldn't truly die.

"But China doesn't think so," Japan continued. "He thinks Amerika is going to decrare war. Because Canada and Mexico never said he wourd withdraw his peopre . . ."

"I've heard as much on that as well," Greece said. It was also another baffling concept to the Greek nation. After his civil war ended, the American embodiment often sought to stay out of wars. It wasn't lost on Greece, on _Heracles_ , that the young nation wanted nothing to do with the conflicts that arose in Europe. He remembered how, during both World Wars, England and France harangued the young nation into trying to join the efforts against Austria and Germany. He also believed it to be odd America would _want_ to declare war, not after the hells he endured because of them. Greece shifted again, more uncomfortable than before as the something _off_ mingled with something _wrong_. Something was _shifting_ somewhere.

"I aporogize," Japan said. "I did not mean to upset or offend you . . ."

"It isn't you," Greece said. He sucked in a deep breath as a surge of anger coursed through him. "It's . . . something else . . . I should have told you . . . America is here . . ."

"And you're feering something's wrong." Japan's voice was monotone. "I noticed it, too, when he came to my rands."

Greece looked at his friend, a frown on his face, and he couldn't stop himself from nodding. He didn't know America as well as perhaps England or France or even Canada – those were the three he saw America associate with the most at of the world meetings, aside from Japan.

"We shourd go and see him," Japan said. He slid off of the stone bench and wiped the remains of snow and dirt from his clothing. "Before he reaves with everyone at his embassy."

"What?" At this, Greece felt a stab of fear. Rather than slide off of the stone bench, like Japan had done, he leapt from the cold surface. A chill started to seep into his bones, and it wasn't the normal kind of cold one associated with the winter. It was something ancient, deep from the bowels of the earth, and he shivered.

"It is what he did when he came to visit me," Japan answered. "After China tord me arr frights to and from Amerika were cancered. I think he did the same thing to China when he went there and paid off his debt."

"O-of course," Greece said. For the first time in a long time, Greece didn't feel quite so laid back, and it frightened him in a way he couldn't describe. He followed Japan to his car.

xxX-Dark-Intentions-Xxx

_The youth that stood in front of him resembled nothing like the proud nation the others had described, and he wasn't the child Greece remembered from a couple of centuries prior. Dirt and soot smudged his face, and a long gash ran from his left temple to his jaw. Blood mixed with the dirt and soot, giving the wound it seeped from a rather nasty appearance. His glasses were smeared with more of the stuff, and his short blond hair stuck out from different angles once he removed his helmet. Blue eyes gazed at him, concerned._

_"Are you okay?" the youth asked him. He held out his hand towards Greece._

_Greece could only stare at the young nation offering his hand. Overhead, planes flew and the rat-tat-tat of guns and the whistling as bombs fell mixed with the screams of the dying and wounded yet the young man before him, a nation, America, took off his helmet and extended a hand to Greece. How did he know he wasn't an enemy lying in wait for someone as foolish and as naïve as him?_

_"Greece?" the young nation inquired. "Are you okay?"_

_'He knows who I am?' the Greek nation mused. 'How can he know who I am?'_

_"You don't look so good," America said. He shoved his helmet back on his head and took a step closer to the trembling man. "I need to get you out of here."_

_"You . . ." Greece managed to speak. His voice cracked, and he licked his splitting lips. "You're injured, too."_

_"It's nothing," America said. "I'll be all right. You're the one taking the pounding here."_

_Greece couldn't deny the truth of his words. The dog fight filled his head with pain, and he couldn't think as clearly as he wanted. Strong hands slid along his sides, his legs, and his arms, checking for wounds. America then grasped him by the arms, and he felt himself being lifted onto the younger nation's shoulder. His breath hitched at the unnatural strength that America possessed._

_"Don't worry," the young man said. He didn't even grunt as he picked Greece up from his hiding spot. Did he not realize just how heavy he was? Or did he simply not notice it?"I'll get you out of here. I promise. I'm the hero, and the hero never goes back on his word!"_

_'Hero? He's a hero?' Greece wondered. 'How can he be a hero? He isn't old enough to be one.'_

_"Hold on," America said. To Greece's hearing, it sounded like he spoke with his teeth clenched together. "This is going to be a little rough. I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt a little. Just keep quiet and we'll make it."_

_"Wha?"_

_Greece didn't have time to wonder or to even think about what the American had just said. With a deep breath, the younger nation sprinted from Greece's temporary shelter and into the streets. The ground exploded next to them as America ran, and it took all the Greek nation had in him to not scream and vomit at the same time._

_How long America had run, Greece didn't know. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and begged for his mother to protect him from the madness that surrounded him. He noticed, though, when the American stopped running. Shouting surrounded them, and he felt America lower him onto a gurney or a bed. His head spun like a dizzying and alarming rate, and Greece succumbed to darkness._

_Sometime later, he awoke, and one of the first things Greece noticed was that the screams of the dying and the wounded were no longer present. There were the moans as the wounded slept nearby, but there were no screams. He also didn't ache quite as much as he had before. The pains of the bombs dropping on his lands were still there. They were just muffled. Glancing around, he saw himself in one of the many medical tents that had cropped up all around Europe. There were some nurses and doctors close by, checking on the men lying in cots_

_Greece also noticed he wasn't the only nation close by. Outside the tent, he sensed the presences of England and America, and they were talking in hushed tones._

_"You stupid git!" England hissed. "What were you thinking?"_

_"I was thinking," America said, sounding calm, "that I needed to get him out of there before Germany found him."_

_"No," England said. "You weren't thinking of Greece. You were thinking of yourself, you bloody fool! You're trying to be a hero, and the only thing you're succeeding at is being a damned fool!"_

_"I was, too, thinking of him! I got him here safely, didn't I?"_

_"Through sheer bloody luck!" England's voice started to raise in pitch, but then he caught himself. Greece knew that he had because his voice returned to its lower, quieter pitch. "I swear I don't know where you get this hero notion from . . . I didn't raise you to make such stupid decisions. You should have stayed under cover and waited for the bloody signal!"_

_"Relax, Artie," America said. "I'm okay. I didn't get hurt . . ."_

_"Like hell you didn't! You have a bloody gash on your face! And don't call me that!"_

_"And I got Greece here safely. I couldn't wait. He didn't look good."_

_"Without any regards for what will happen to you or your troops if you're caught by those bloody bastards," England said, his voice cold. "I know I didn't raise you to be such an idiot, America, and what you did was not only foolish but downright stupid."_

_"It's what I had to do." Greece heard America shuffle his feet. "And I'd do it again."_

_"I'm sure you would," England retorted, his tone bordering on biting and bitter. Greece couldn't be sure if the island nation was jealous, overprotective, concerned, or simply angry and scared that America had risked his life for a fellow nation. He knew England had watched over America when the younger nation had been a colony, and the two had been close. America had been the only one to like England during those days. Greece wondered if those old feelings of love and protectiveness on England's part were still there, and, if so, why he and France even wanted America in this war in the first place. There was one thing he did know for certain. Their arguing left him uncomfortable, and he wished they'd stop. England sighed. "Just don't do anything reckless. Again. Understood?"_

_"Sure thing, Artie."_

_"Don't call me that."_

_"Whatever. I'll talk with you later. I've got to meet with Patton about something . . ."_

_"I'm sure . . ." England sighed again. "Go . . . we'll talk about this later."_

"He was captured after that," Greece murmured. The drive to Athens had been uneventful, and it allowed for him to remember something a little more recent than the days of his mother's reign. Thankfully, Japan had been the one driving instead of him. When they left the ancient ruins, he didn't believe he could manage driving, not with the anger and the wrongness flowing through him.

"Nani?" Japan said.

"America," Greece said. "He found me during World War II, hiding under some rubble . . . I wasn't in very good shape, but he carried me all the way back to where England had his troops stationed. After saving me, he and England argued outside the medical tent I was in . . . then he went after France. Germany had captured him again, and America went to rescue him behind enemy lines. I never got the chance to thank him for what he did . . ."

"I see," Japan said. Greece looked at him.

"I know you were allies with Germany at the time, and I don't blame you for the decisions you made at that time. You did what you had to do for your people," he murmured. "I know you know about it."

"I do know," the island nation said, nodding. "Germany and I spoke about it during one of our meetings. France managed to escape, but Amerika wasn't so rucky in the attempt."

Greece wanted to ask what happened to the younger nation during his captivity. He knew many American soldiers joined millions of others sent to the German concentration camps and that many never returned home. The courage to ask the question, however, faltered and vanished.

"We're armost there," Japan said. The American embassy loomed into view, but there were no lights shining from the walls or the building. Greece sat up further in his seat. Somehow, he knew the _wrongness_ he felt had triggered the memories from the last world war, but he possessed no clue as to what it meant. He also knew the Americans were no longer in their embassy. They were leaving, just as they had done in both China and Japan.

'Mother,' he prayed, 'if you can see us and what's going on, please . . . help us . . . help us to make sense of what's going on . . .'

He and Japan stepped out of the car. The building and the grounds looked desolate, as if they'd been drained of their energies. Greece stepped forward, but Japan remained by the car.

"There is no one inside," he murmured with sadness. "We got here too rate . . ."

Greece could only nod, saddened as a nation yet feeling strangely elated at the same time. He walked towards the building, as silent as a ghost. Taped to the front of the door was a note.

**Dear Heracles (Greece),**

**I'm sorry that we didn't get the chance to meet up while I was here, and, like, do some stuff together. I know how you like to hang out in your ruins and stuff, and it's just too cold for me to be out and about like that. Stupid stomach flu just won't leave me alone so I know I wouldn't be great company for you and stuff.**

**Anyway, dude, I left you a gift with your president and other political peeps. I hope it helps with your debt and all that. I know it's still been strangling you after all these years, the economy. You don't ever show it, I know, but it's been hurting you and I don't like to see anyone hurting. Be sure your government spends it wisely.**

**Have a Merry Christmas and wonderful upcoming new year!**

**Signed,**

**Alfred F. Jones (America)**

**P.S. Next time you see Kiku (Japan), could you tell him I'm not sorry for hanging out with him when I last visited? I feel awful that I couldn't, but I ate something that didn't agree with me on the flight there, and I was just miserable the entire time. Go fig, man. Food poisoning led up to stomach flu. Anyway, I know you'll see him before I get the chance to again. He's rather fond of you.**

**Peace out,**

**Alfred**

"What does it say?" Japan asked. He walked up to Greece as he read over the note a second time then handed it to the island nation. As he did, his cell phone rang. The caller I.D. showed it was his boss, and he took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"Yes?" Greece said.

_"You will never believe this!"_ his boss said, his excitement evident in his voice. It was infectious, and Heracles wanted to dance for joy, if it weren't for the anger and wrongness invading his senses. _"The Americans! They have given us more than enough money to pay off our debts and get our economy back on track! Isn't this wonderful?"_

"Yes," Greece murmured. "Very wonderful. I will see you shortly."

It was rude to say the least, but he hung up on his boss before the man could say more. He loved the president like family, but there was something he wanted to ask Japan without the other man listening.

"He doesn't say why he's packed everything up and reft," Japan muttered.

"Why would China say America is going to declare war?" Greece inquired. He, too, had noticed the same thing as his friend, and it bothered him.

"Nani?"

"China . . . he believes America is going to declare war on him . . . what would make him say that?"

It was Japan's turn to shift in discomfort.

"Kiku?"

"I wirr not beat around the bush with you," Japan said. "He believes it because it part of _The Art of War_ by Sun Tzu. He uses it for miratary purposes. Amerika has, too."

"What about you?" Greece asked. "What do you think he'll do?"

"At this point, I don't know," Japan answered. He let out a heavy sigh. "I just wish to see him so I can tark to him and know for sure . . . he is my friend, and I don't want to rose him."

"Then we should call a world meeting and get him there," Greece said. "So we can know for sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Yes! It's the long awaited chapter! And we've heard from America! Be happy, little ones. Be happy. Stuck this here so as to not deprive anyone of getting straight into the chapter.
> 
> The poll has been extended until October 30th! Chapter Eight is finalized for PoV. Just need Chapter Nine now so please vote if you haven't already!
> 
> Thanks for reading! And thanks to everyone who has left reviews so far and put this story in their favorites lists. Everything is much appreciated.
> 
> Re: The Art of War by Sun Tzu.  
> I listened to the audiobook about four weeks ago, and it is something the U.S. and Chinese military utilize when coming up with battle tactics. Japanese business people are also encouraged to read it. (Thank you, gemstarre, for bringing that book to my attention!)
> 
> Re: Greece in World War II and business dealings.  
> Business dealings are often conducted after the two companies coming together have met for a total of three times. The first two are to establish relations and mutual trust, the third is when business is finally conducted. Like many European nations who opposed Germany and her allies, Greece endured attack. I took artistic liberty with the dog fights and bombings. If you'd like to know more about the World War II timeline, I highly recommend checking out History Channel . com and worldwar - 2 - timeline (take out the spaces).
> 
> Re: Dog fight.  
> For those of you unfamiliar with military terminology, a dog fight isn't just a battle between two dogs. It's a battle between fighter pilots in the air.


	6. Chapter 5 - Spain (with Romano)

_Four Weeks Later . . . (January 2022)_

_"I am hoping you and Romano will be able to make it,"_ Greece said. Spain fought the urge to sigh and groan at his fellow nation. As soon as America had given the other nation plenty of money to pour into social programs and jumpstart his economy, Greece, along with the help of Japan, had been asking for a world conference to be called, much to everyone's great annoyance. Their claims for wanting to hold a world conference were that they were worried for America, the younger nation's actions growing more and more baffling with each passing day. By now, everyone knew something was going on the North American nation, but no one knew which nation would receive the final shut down. His embassies and consulates were being shut down as well as military bases around the world with China being the first, and all of it happened at an alarming rate. Trade and flights to and from America had all been cancelled once his people from abroad returned home without much urging from America's boss, and the only Americans anyone saw were those still in the remaining open embassies and those from the Army Corps of Engineers. Throughout the African and Middle Eastern nations in addition to South America, the Americans were constructing irrigation systems and schools, building and rebuilding roads, and strengthening old bridges. From what Spain heard on the news programs, the Engineers were working hard, they were working fast, and they were working efficiently, as if they were on some kind of a timeline. Because of his actions, because when he finally shut down his embassies, it was with no explanation as to why. The nations wondered what America was planning. _"This is quite the serious issue."_

"I will think about it, amigo. There's more to this than simply agreeing to come, you know. I have to talk to not only my boss about scheduling, but Romano's, too," Spain said. He spoke with a calm and ease he didn't precisely feel. In his mind, he thought 'Yeah, right. Like I really want to do anything to help that bastard. It must be nice to be able to pay off his debts like that. Lucky bastard. Where exactly is he getting the money from, I wonder.'

Romano felt the same way. When Spain took the call from Greece, his former ward scowled and stormed off upon learning it was, once again, about America and his actions, cursing in Italian the entire time. Now Antonio's eyes wandered in the direction in which the Italian nation had wandered, no doubt chomping down angrily on a tomato to keep himself calm.

 _"Of course,"_ Greece said in reply. _"I do understand it isn't quite as simple as organizing something of this magnitude right away. Kiku and I just feel that, the sooner we can get this meeting announced, the better it will be for everyone involved. I am sure you are feeling the effects of no longer having American tourists within your lands . . ."_

'Of course, I am,' Spain thought with bitterness. 'That's why I don't want to help that bastard at all. He's doing this on purpose. He's trying to teach everyone a lesson and trying to prove that we need him when we don't.'

"I am," he replied, keeping his temper in check. He knew of the bailout Greece had received from America. He, like the rest of the world, knew how the nation was recovering because of it. And it just wasn't money that America had brought to Greece, and, indeed, to the nations living on the African and South American continents. It was medicine, books, food and clothes . . . everything their people needed. "But it isn't anything we can't handle. I'm sure we can find other ways to bring in revenue."

 _"Antonio, this isn't just about revenue,"_ Greece said. He sounded tired and . . . resigned. _"I am sure you have heard the rumors as to why Amerika is doing this, yes?"_

Spain paused before replying. Unlike what most of the other nations thought, he didn't spend every single minute of his spare time trying to woo Romano and Belgium. He watched the news. China, the moment America had left his lands, started to increase his military strength and fortify strategic locations, bringing his younger siblings who didn't despise him or were still under his yoke – North Korea, Vietnam, Thailand, and Hong Kong – into the conflict. The older nation believed and feared that American intended to declare war. The way Antonio saw it, it didn't make any sense for America to declare war if he withdrew all of his military bases from his allies in the Pacific. He wouldn't leave Japan, South Korea, and Philippines completely defenseless, despite the U.S. military training Japanese citizens to defend their homeland.

Then there was what Canada and his own creation, Mexico, had told them at the last world meeting. Suicide. It was something they believed him capable of doing, and now, apparently, so did Greece and Japan.

"Si," he said. "I have. China thinks he intends to declare war. I'm not sure why he would think that . . ."

 _"He thinks it because it is what he would do,"_ Greece interjected. _"It is written in part of an ancient Chinese military text. 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu. It is, as I'm sure you are aware, a book on military strategy. Amerika has studied it and used it in training his armies."_

"And how do you know he has studied it?"

 _"Because Japan told me,"_ Greece answered. _"It is used by Amerika's military for determining which tactics to use. Japan's businessmen use this book as well. Apparently, it is a very useful tool in trying to undermine one's opponent."_

At first, Spain didn't know what to think about this revelation. Personally, he thought America made the rules of battle up as he went along once he broke free from England's rule and gained his independence. The younger nation had done many things in the course of his history that no nation had ever done in battles, but, once he had, the rest of the nations followed suit. Some of it _did_ make sense, of course, but others were just brutal. To hear that he utilized an ancient Chinese text on military strategy was astounding, and it left Spain feeling wary. If America studied this book with only two other nations realizing it, what else was he hiding? Was he really the idiot everyone believed him to be? Spain wasn't so sure, but he also didn't believe that America hiding things and _finally_ giving something more than heartache, frustration, and idiocy back to the rest of the world was worth calling a world meeting as soon as possible. He didn't understand this particular desire of Greece and Japan's to get this done.

"Huh," Spain said, almost an inaudible sound. "I guess that makes sense as to why China would think that, if he's the one who wrote the book . . ."

 _"Mexico and Canada never said anything about Amerika doing anything like he's done,"_ Greece said. _"That is why China believes he will declare war. It's what he told Japan during a visit."_

"So why do you think Canada and Mexico are right?" Spain asked. There was a pause and what sounded like the other nation shifting.

 _"There is something not right with what's going on,"_ Greece murmured. _"It is hard to explain, hard to describe . . . something isn't right, and Japan and I would like to talk to him, to be sure he's feeling all right."_

"So why didn't you ask him when he was there?" Spain asked. "Or did he not bother to show up when his embassies closed?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. When Greece didn't say anything right away, Spain started to wonder if the other had forgotten about him. Then there was a soft, long inhale of breath.

 _"He was here,"_ Greece said. _"I sensed his presence in my lands. However, I never received the chance to speak with him. He stayed within his embassy's walls, claiming illness. He's also refused to take calls and not responding to email requests."_

"And Japan and China?"

_"China, according to Japan, refused to see him when he was there, but it is believed he attended that first meeting. Unfortunately, we can't be sure. As for when he visited Japan . . . he claimed illness then, too. It is our hope that calling a world conference and extending an invitation to America . . ."_

"You can actually bring him out to where everyone can confront him," Spain finished. He couldn't help but feel and sound bitter over the notion. The world had yet to recover from the political, religious, and economic upheavals from the last decade, and still all eyes were on America and what was happening there. Spain hated the amount of attention the world lavished upon the younger nation at the same time he envied it. There was so much America could and had done for himself yet everyone, in Antonio's mind, kept insisting on doting on him. Half of America's problems were caused by America himself, and the world would be a better place once everyone, including America, realized it. Not that America hadn't faced tragedy since that last world meeting, but Spain found that his sympathy went so far. He wanted the drama to end when it came to America, but he believed that it wouldn't, not if any of the rumours were true.

 _"Yes,"_ Greece said. _"Your help on this would be greatly appreciated."_

"I've no doubts that it will, amigo," he replied. "I will get back with you on it as soon as I am able."

_"Thank you."_

The line on the other end cut out, and Spain let out a sigh of relief. Greece and Japan were starting to increase the number of calls, letters, and emails they sent out to the other nations about calling a world conference as soon as possible. The emails were simple and belied their true intentions since America's email address was often included. They were requests for a world conference to be called on, for the umpteenth billion time (seemed like), global warming and world hunger. They were the kind of meetings that most of the nations dreaded but the ones America adored, if only so he could present his idiotic ideas to them and insist that they were the best for the world's problems. They never accomplished anything, as far as Spain could tell, and he was in no hurry to call for one in any event.

As he thought of his phone call with Greece, of how the other nations America allegedly visited, Spain noted each had not seen him when he was there. No one saw the younger nation anymore, not even his neighbors and siblings, Canada and Mexico, and it was in thinking of those two, Spain frowned. He truly found it hard to believe that neither Canada nor Mexico had seen America in between world meetings. Their lands were quite literally touching America's, almost the same way Portugal and France were his neighbors. Most of the time, Spain couldn't go a week without seeing at least one of them. How could Canada and Mexico _not_ see America?

'There's only one way to find out,' Spain thought, picking up his phone and dialing. 'I just hope he answers.

 _"Hola, **Padre** ,"_ Mexico said after the third ring. Spain scowled at the sarcastic way the younger nation said 'father' and at the hints of anger in his voice. He also refrained from sighing in sadness and frustration. While the relations between their governments weren't exactly bad, Mexico wasn't exactly fond of his former mentor and father figure. Too much anger and resentment remained in Mexico, in William, over the loss of some of his ancient cultures at the hands of Spain's people. _"What can I do for you today?"_

"Hola, Mexico. I hope today is finding you well," Spain said. "If it won't be too much trouble, I would like for you to answer some questions for me."

_"What kind of questions?"_

"Questions about your neighbor, America," he said. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lovino standing in the doorway, a tomato in hand and a dark scowl on his face. "I'd like to know the truth. When was the last time you saw him?"

 _"Dios mio, Padre!"_ Mexico exclaimed, irritation in his voice. _"It was as Canada and I said in that last world meeting! We saw him once after that. He came to visit me with an apology and a promise on his lips. Since then, there has been nothing."_

"I don't believe you," Spain said, now feeling irritated himself at the younger nation. "You are his neighbor! So is Canada. The three of you share a bond like no other!"

 _"No,"_ Mexico replied. The contempt was thick in his voice. Somewhere in the background, Spain heard guitars, and he wondered where the younger nation was at in his lands. _"America and Canada share a bond like no other. They agree on their borders. America has no problems with Canadians wanting to enter his lands for a better life, and the same goes for Canada. They have no disputes when it comes to who comes and goes between them. And it_ is _true. I've not seen America since that last visit of his."_

"I find it hard to believe . . ."

 _"Of course you would!"_ Mexico all but shouted. _"When you were in these lands, colonizing, how far into America's lands did you go? Not your people but you. It must not have been too far or you'd know."_

"Know what?"

 _"How easy it is to not be seen in America's lands,"_ Mexico replied. _"My lands only border on Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. There are_ fifty _states and a federal district that comprise of America's lands, Padre. If America does not want for either me or Canada to see him, **we do not see him**. There are forests and deserts and mountains for him to use as personal retreats. While it is all but impossible for you to go without seeing Portugal or France, it is easy to not see America. You are a fool if you think he is a nation the same size as you. In terms of land," _ and at this Mexico laughed, _"well, Padre, I think it would be safe to say he outstrips everyone in Europe. Without the benefit of flight, it would take a week to go from America's East Coast to the West, depending on how fast he wants to drive and how many stops he wants to make along the way. You have a mere population of fifty million. His, last I knew, was closer to three-hundred-fourteen million. America nearly has triple the number of people that I have and more than ten times that of Canada. He could blend in with them, and I would never know it. Only China and India have population sizes larger than America, though their lands are smaller. Even Russia can't beat him when it comes to numbers."_

Spain felt his jaw drop at the numbers Mexico just tossed at him. He knew in terms of population and land America was by far larger than he, but to have a larger population than Russia? It was astounding! Russia was a very _large_ country!

"I didn't . . ."

 _"Didn't what?"_ Mexico asked. _"Didn't know? Why would you? The only time you care about what's happening with America, Canada, or myself is when it has a direct impact on you. By the way, how are you feeling? Feeling the sting of not having American tourists in your lands or the trade? How devastating is it to not be trading with the one person in the world you know wants what you sell?"_

"I'm doing quite fine without America for trade," Spain retorted. "He isn't the only nation in the world for that!"

 _"But he was the one you wanted access to the most when he fought that revolution of his,"_ Mexico said, his tone quiet. A soft sigh followed his remark. _"I know he isn't the only nation in the world, Padre . . . I'm sure you and the others will figure out something. You often do."_

The line on the other end clicked, and Spain sighed. He thought of calling Cuba, of asking _him_ what _he_ thought about America's more recent behaviour, but he didn't think that conversation would go any better than what his talk with Mexico had. His mind still reeled from the amount of information his former ward had tossed at him. Somehow, he knew that America's lands and his population exceeded that of his own, but he never truly comprehended those pieces of information. A part of him still couldn't truly comprehend the magnitude of what Mexico had told him. Much like America's insane ideas, it was a foreign concept, one that would forever elude him.

"So what did he have to say?" Romano asked. Some tomato juice dribbled down his chin.

"That apparently I'm still an idiot," Spain replied, sighing a little. He scrubbed at his eyes, exhaustion settling over his body. He hated how tired he felt since America's tourists and soldiers were no longer in his lands and since trade and commerce had all but come to a complete halt. "I wanted to know how he and Canada could not see America as they are neighbors. Apparently, it is quite easy."

"I don't believe that," Romano said.

"Believe it," Spain said. He let out another sigh. "According to him, if America doesn't want to be seen, there are plenty of places for him to hide. There is more land stretching between Mexico and Canada than there is between me and Germany . . . without the annoying hassles of France and Switzerland."

"No, they just have the annoyance of America," Romano said. He stared hard at Spain for several minutes before asking, "Greece wanted to talk about calling a world conference again, didn't he?"

"Si, he did," Spain replied. "Apparently, he is siding with Japan, Canada, and Mexico on this matter of what America _might_ be doing."

"Oh? And what _might_ America be doing?" Romano asked.

"Committing suicide as opposed to declaring war on China."

To that, Romano snorted in derision.

"Oh, please!" he said. "So long as his lands and his people exist, America can't die. We can't die. Not unless we're completely obliterated. If anything, all America is doing is trying to get attention by going into isolation. Nothing more. Nothing less."

Spain nodded his head slowly in agreement, though something about what Romano said didn't feel completely right. He just couldn't pinpoint precisely what was wrong. A wave of dizziness assaulted him, and he leaned against the counter to steady himself.

He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Mexico's insight to his current economic troubles was too accurate for his liking. In fact, since America's people stopped visiting, Spain had felt the pains from losing that source of revenue. He couldn't even recall the last time an American set foot into his lands.

'Why is he doing this?' Spain wondered. 'Why has he called his people back home? What's going on in his country that everyone is returning back to his lands?'

As he thought about it, Spain realized he'd heard nothing of America's 2020 presidential election. He couldn't even recall if anything was said about the 2016 election, either. He remembered that the years 2008 and 2012 were quite brutal as religious and political leaders divided the nation's populace almost irrevocably. By the end of the year 2015, very little news reached Europe about America.

"What is it?" Romano asked.

"Huh?" Spain glanced at him.

"You were frowning just a moment ago, bastard," the younger nation said. "What is it?"

"Oh . . ." He blinked then shook his head. "I was just thinking . . . I haven't heard anything about America's last election. Last two elections, actually. I don't know who his boss is . . ."

"I'm sure it's been in the news somewhere," Romano said. "If not, there's always that fat bastard's government website. That's the one thing he's always bragged about, who his boss is and how that person is cooler than anyone else. Why would now be any different?"

Again, Romano had another point. America loved how his system worked. He believed himself to be the best country in the world, his people the best. Someone somewhere had to know who America's boss was.

"Maybe Cuba will know," Spain muttered. He didn't relish the thought of contacting his other former colony.

"Or you could visit the U.S. government's website," Romano said. "I doubt Cuba cares too much about who America's boss is."

"Ungrateful . . ." Spain muttered under his breath, leaving the rest unfinished. He still remembered the sounds of gun and cannon fire, the shouting of the Americans as they kept his ships from reaching the small island nation.

Independence.

Like America, Cuba had wanted independence from Spain. He'd been willing to fight for it, too, but he wasn't like England or Japan. He was like all fledgling colonies – weak. Spain thought he could do what England couldn't as Cuba didn't have the unlimited resources. A few warships and it would be over.

"Spain?" Romano's voice sounded so far away. Spain blinked as his vision blurred. The world spun before it turned black.

xXx-Dark-Intentions-xXx

Romano yelped and leapt forward the moment Spain swayed and collapsed. He managed to reach his former caretaker before his head hit the floor. Unfortunately, Spain weighed more than he did, and the two crashed anyway. The Italian nation cursed under his breath, Spain and America both receiving the bulk of them, as he tried to crawl out from under his former guardian and get him to a different room.

He wasn't as blind to what was going on as many of the other nations thought. Romano knew that America and his people had been shutting the door on the rest of the world for nearly a decade. No one paid much attention to it, however. As much as he didn't _want_ to care about such things, he did. It affected him, his idiotic younger brother, and the rest of the European nations. Confusion ruled in the places where American corporations simply stopped all communications, and the military shut down. Factories were built in various places around the world. His homeland had experienced a slight economic boost thanks to the factories being built, but it wasn't enough to stop the effects of an economic decline. His country _needed_ American tourists and military personnel to support their tourist industry. People from Canada simply weren't enough, and Romano hated that America had managed to lay a world of hurt, not only on him and his idiot brother Feliciano, but on Spain and the rest of Europe as well.

In the midst of his tirade against both Spain and America – Spain for being such a heavy and now unconscious nation and pinning Romano to the floor – the phone rang. Lovino wriggled out from underneath Antonio to the best of abilities in order to answer.

"Hello?" he said in a gruff tone.

 _"Ah, senor Romano,"_ a woman's voice said. Romano recognized her as Spain's boss. _"I was not expecting you to answer."_

'More like you weren't expecting me here at all,' Romano thought.

"I'm here," he said. "Spain is . . ."

He glanced at the unconscious nation.

"Spain is unable to talk right now," he said in an effort to save face for his former caretaker. "That's why I answered the phone."

 _"Oh,"_ the woman said. _"That is too bad. I had hoped to catch him about an important meeting."_

"What meeting?" Romano narrowed his eyes, though she couldn't see him. "He never told me about any meeting."

 _That's because he didn't know,"_ she replied. _"A delegation from America has_ just arrived. They are requesting my presence as well as that of Senor Spain."

"Well, he can't make it," Romano snapped, glaring at the Spaniard. "Even if he could, I'm certain he wouldn't want to. You can tell that to the burger-loving bastard."

 _"I suppose we could meet with Senor America and his delegation without our representative,"_ the woman said thoughtfully. _"Unless, of course, you would be interested?"_

"No." Romano shook his head. "No . . . I, uh, I'm not feeling so well right this moment. I think I should stay here and rest as well."

 _"Oh, that is too bad,"_ she said, although she hardly sounded disappointed. _"We could use a representative right now . . . though I'm sure it isn't quite necessary, either."_

"It would not be a good idea for me to be there," Romano said. "It may be catchy, you know? Besides, someone should be here for the toma-I mean, Spain."

 _"Of course,"_ she said. _"I will be sure to let the delegation know of this. They're timing couldn't be worse anyway . . . You will take care of Antonio, won't you?"_

Her voice was hopeful, and he resisted the urge to snort in derision at her. What kind of person did she think he was? His former caretaker may have been a royal pain in his ass as a child, still wasn't very mature when it came to a lot of things (the sea turtles wandering into the restaurant came to mind), but he was one of the only few people Romano trusted. He couldn't leave Spain alone, even if he _wanted_ to actually speak to that burger-loving bastard. In a way, he understood the woman's concern.

"Of course, I will," he grumbled. "It is not like I'm going to go anywhere."

 _"Thank you,"_ she said. _"I will keep in touch with what the American delegation wants. Adios."_

"Adios," Romano said as she hung up. It took him some maneuvering to put the receiver back – Antonio remained still and slightly feverish – but he somehow managed. He then looked at the still unconscious Spain.

"You," he said, "are a real pain in the ass, you know that? Why couldn't you have passed out in your bed and make this easier for me? Bastard. I suppose it can't be helped, though. America is really doing a number on everyone, isn't he? Maybe we should see about a world meeting, just so we can tell him off, si?"

Shaking his head in fond annoyance and not really expecting an answer back, Romano set about getting his former caretaker into his room.

xXx-Dark-Intentions-xXx

_His son looked awful, Spain thought. Bandages covered parts of Cuba's hands and face. More undoubtedly covered his chest, arms and legs, but those were hidden by the long pants and long-sleeved shirt he wore. They were clothes that possibly belonged to America – they weren't the Cuban's usual style. Antonio's heart ached as he saw the damage the war had wrought upon his child, and he knew that dangerous, murderous glint in the island nation's eyes was for him. But the wounds weren't what indicated to Spain his son's misery. It was the cooling weather in Paris. Cuba, to his knowledge, never really experienced the changing of the seasons the way France, England, and most of Europe did. Italy, especially Southern Italy, was quite beautiful this time of year, with the leaves changing colors . . . He blinked and mentally shook his head. He had to keep his focus. There was a reason for this meeting, and it was to negotiate the end of the war with Cuba's northern neighbor, one country Spain blamed for his son's rebellion._

_America, of course, sat next to Cuba. His back was straight, his shoulders squared, and his blue eyes bright and full of determination. It was as if he knew how this would turn out. Yet there was no smile on America's face. How could he not be smiling? He was winning this war and all because he happened to be closer to Cuba than Spain was. Why was he not smiling?_

_**"You should just let Cuba go," England had said. The two of them were having tea in the Brit's garden, the tea the only thing Spain could stomach. Arthur hadn't even looked at him as he spoke.** _

_**"Let him go? But he's my colony!"** _

_**"He's also too far away for you to control." A sad and wistful smile had graced the blond's face. "You can try and hold onto him all you want, but it won't matter in the end. He will still leave you. It is the way of children, after all."** _

_**"Hey, just because you couldn't keep the reins tight on America doesn't mean I should have to give up what I have in the New World!" Spain had risen to his feet, his entire body shaking with fury. No wonder Britain didn't have very many friends.** _

_**"This isn't about what I could or couldn't do with America. This is about you maintaining relationships with your children." The Brit raised his cup to his lips. "If you wish to remain on good terms with any of them, you will let them go so they can learn on their own. I know how you are, Antonio. You like to hold a grudge. If Cuba is anything like you, he will hold this against you forever."** _

_'I wish I would have listened,' Antonio thought. It was, however, too late. He'd made his choices a long time ago, and he knew he would have to live with the consequences._

Spain groaned. The bright light of mid afternoon surrounded him, causing his head to pound. Yet, at the same time his entire body ached, he felt remarkably . . . better. And happy but also irritated, confused, and wrong. He didn't understand why this was.

"It's about time you woke up, bastard."

He turned his head towards Romano. His former charge stood in the doorway, a bowl of tomatoes in hand. Instead of his usual scowl, however, there was a slight smile on his face.

"Romano?"

"Si, you lunkhead, I'm still here." The Italian crossed the room. "Here. I brought you some tomatoes. Thought you might be hungry when you woke up."

"Aye, that I am," Spain replied. His stomach rumbled in agreement, and he sat up. "What happened?"

"You passed out after you talked with William. I had to drag your sorry ass back here."

"Oh. Thank you for that." Spain tilted his head as he took a tomato. "By the way, what has you smiling? You don't smile very often, Romano."

At that, Romano's smile got a little bit bigger, but his eyes spoke of trouble.

"That's because America sent a delegation," he said. "Like he did to China, Japan, and Greece."

"Romano?"

"The Americans, they, uh . . . they gave your country a bailout of some kind. Your presidente, she called about twenty minutes ago with the news. There's more, but she wouldn't tell me. She said you have to call her when you are able."

"That is . . . good," Spain said. "In a way, I guess."

"Si. It is good . . . it worries me, though."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Antonio," Romano paused. "Where is he getting the money to do this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is a very good question, Romano. Everyone will have their answers soon enough. Maybe.
> 
> Now for a few things about this chapter and what I'll be doing next!
> 
> Regarding: Current Events  
> At this point, with how quickly things are happening with countries like North Korea, Syria, and Egypt as well as the U.S., I'm going to abandon all current events that have followed the Newtown, Connecticut, shootings. There's just too much to try and keep up on, and it's a pain in the arse to rewrite the previous chapters only to expound the misery America is feeling. We do know what's going on. We have an idea as to how it might affect the personification as created by Hidekaz Himayura. The world just keeps spinning to try and keep adding the current events. So 2012, for this story, is the last time anyone has heard anything about America and his current events.
> 
> Historical Events:  
> According to the Mexican Hetalia fan who does the historical aspects of Mexico for the series, Mexicans like to hold grudges. They're currently holding grudges against Spain for the treatment of their people and of the ancient tribes no longer in existence, America (for, well, everything our government has done), and so on. I took some liberties and wrote it so most everyone of Spanish descent is like that. If you compare the history of Mexico with his northern neighbors, his past is far darker, far bloodier thanks in part to Conquistador Spain. Britain was actually far less cruel as a mother country, but that's another historical event for another chapter.
> 
> Yes, India and China have larger populations than the U.S., but they're also more prone to crowding issues. All numbers for land masses and country populations were found using google. Russia is still a larger country, landwise, but nowhere near as much when it was the Soviet Union.
> 
> The U.S. and Spain did go to war in the very late 1800s. Cuba declared independence, and, like in the U.S., the fighting was done on the island itself. The U.S., naturally, backed Cuba in the endeavor. This is the war that would propel Theodore Roosevelt into American history as a war hero and president. In 1898, Spain declared war on the U.S. and sent ships. Those in power in the U.S. were quite sneaky upon hearing Spain's declaration. They returned the declaration but with a date a few days before Spain's and sent ships to Cuba. Since we were closer, we were able to get there faster and greet Spain. The fighting lasted through September of 1898 when a French dignitary appealed to the U.S. for negotiations on the behalf of Spain. Talks lasted through December and ended with Cuban independence. xx - It is entirely possible the U.S. may have tried to annex Cuba, but the Library of Congress website doesn't say that it actually happened. The goal was for the island nation to be independent, and, with the signing of the Treaty of Paris, Cubans won just that. This, of course, is just on the Spanish American war, not anything that happened after that. - xx  
> The Spanish American War also resulted in the acquisitions of Guam, the Philippines, and Puerto Rico as U.S. territories.
> 
> Many of us may remember the episode where Romano and Spain are in the restaurant where the baby sea turtles swarm the place. To be sure that it actually happened, I googled it. And, yes, it actually happened.
> 
> Some European misconceptions:  
> Most Europeans are blissfully, perhaps ignorantly, unaware of just how large countries like Canada, the U.S., and Russia are. In England, everything is two hours away from London. My history teacher once told of how some friends from England wanted to go to both Disneyland and, I do believe, Disney World in a week by driving. From their previous home city of Saginaw, Michigan. To California then to Florida. In seven days. As we Americans know, that just isn't possible without breaking the speed limits and perhaps the sound barrier. If I recall correctly on this as well, they also wanted to see a few other sites, which was also out of the realm of possibility.
> 
> Finally, I want to thank everyone for their patience on my getting this chapter rewritten and uploaded. In a way, losing the thumb drive prompted me to look up the Spanish American War, which led to a different flashback scene. Thanks again! Every review, every kudos, every bookmark makes my day.
> 
> Until the next chapter!


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prussia, Austria, and Germany do some reflecting.

(February 2022 – a week and a half later)

_"MEIN GOTT!"_

Prussia stared at his cell phone, his mind not believing what his eyes were reading. It was another text message from his fellow BTT bud, Spain, and this one was, well, unbelievable and downright UN-awesome.

The United Nations building was no longer in New York City. In fact, according to Spain, the construction of the new building, in _Quebec City, Quebec, Canada,_ had started shortly two years prior and was now completed. On top of that, his fellow BTT member was now receiving an invitation to join the G8. America had finally officially bowed out after giving both Greece and Spain one hell of a bailout. Their economies were faring better with the influx of cash and manufacturing sites.

All of this was a huge conflict of awesome and _not_ awesome for the albino. America wasn't the biggest airhead in the world like everyone thought he was. Hell, it was America who had called it after World War I on the effectiveness of the League of Nations, and it was _his_ President Wilson's brain child! He'd refused to join upon reading the wording because of how ineffective the first attempt to unite the nations of the world was going to be, not to mention it was against the Monroe Doctrine he had agreed upon under President James Monroe. His Congress agreed. No other nation could say that! Plus, there was the city of King of Prussia in Pennsylvania. How could Prussia _not_ like America for that?

Oh, it wasn't to say that Gilbert was completely unhappy with some of the developments. Spain and Greece were in dire need of _some_ kind of financial assistance, and his younger brother's government faced the brunt of each and every request for money. Ludwig prevailed, despite many hardships since the recessions hit, but, with their cousin Austria breathing down their necks about money, bailing the European nations out almost constantly left Ludwig more than cranky, irritable, and with what seemed like a terminal migraine. America handing out some much needed money was a boon, but there was the question where the younger nation was finding the resources. The last anyone knew, the exuberant nation's economy still limped along, and the political and religious drama continued to compound an expedient recovery. The albino wondered just how many Americans were complaining right now about the amount of money spent and donated to Greece, Spain, and all of Africa. Sure, many Americans didn't mind helping other countries. It was one of the great things about U.S. citizens. When their neighbors needed a hand, if there was anyone in need, the vast majority Americans rose up to the occasion, heedless of their fellow compatriots' complaints. Haiti and Japan were among such recipients.

'How can this be happening?' Prussia ran one hand through his hair and pulled. Not tugged but _pulled_. America, _Alfred_ , was his bro in crime, much like how he, Francis and Antonio were the Bad Touch Trio. He, Denmark, and America made up the Awesome Trio. It just how it was, and he'd not heard from the younger nation in what felt like decades. He yearned to see Alfred, to get together with their pal Denmark, and to just paintball the crap out of the majority of the European union. His fingers curled around his cell phone tightly and dangerously.

"What is the matter _this_ time?" Austria demanded in his usual haughty tone. He stuck his head into Prussia's room. "Hungary turn you down again? You should know better by now. She's not into you."

The albino narrowed his eyes at his, er, well, cousin. The music-lover stared down his nose. Prussia wanted to punch him.

"Nein," he growled. He shook his head, calming a little. "Nein. Amerika . . ."

"Amerika?" At this, Austria blinked. He also sobered when he noticed the phone in Prussia's hand. "I see. What is the news this time?"

"New U.N. building in Canada," Prussia answered, still growling. He sprang from his bed. "Started two years ago. Whole world is now just finding out. Totally UN-awesome! Where is Germany?"

"He is . . . speaking with his boss." Austria followed him. "There are . . . Americans still in his lands."

"They can't leave," Prussia said. "Not until we get some answers."

His rage burned in his blood as he stormed from his room and sought his younger brother out . . .

_He really hadn't wanted to be involved in a squabble between America and England. He truly had not, and so had his boss. England was a powerhouse in his own right. A bit stuffy and arrogant but no one wanted to mess the island nation. He'd built himself into being the world's largest military and navy. America didn't stand a chance against him, but the youth was certainly determined to try._

_Except for France, who was probably the world's biggest masochist. Anyone with two eyes could see just how much the French nation was smitten with England, despite Arthur's lousy treatment of him (and everyone else) and the island nation's greediness._

_'Perhaps that's why he's backing Alfred,' Prussia mused, sinking into his cot. While his country wasn't getting involved too directly in America's revolution, his boss had decided to send some help. 'Francis will do anything to get that pipsqueak riled up and to notice him.'_

_He'd just closed his eyes when he caught the faint hint of footsteps approaching his tent. Weariness gone, he slowly, methodically rose up from his cot. He picked up his blade in the same movement._

_Whoever it was stopped just outside his tent. Prussia held his breath, waiting. Then a soft cough escaped the person, and he exhaled, recognizing the tone and quality of said person's voice._

_'Alfred,' he muttered in his head. He relaxed and waited._

_But the boy said nothing. Instead, he stood outside the tent for several minutes, muffling coughs and kicking his feet around. Prussia narrowed his eyes and was about to snap something at America for interrupting him. The entire time, something felt horribly wrong and off, but Prussia, for the life of him, couldn't pinpoint what it was._

_'What does he want to be disturbing the awesome me?'_

_Finally, America slipped away, a soft hiccup escaping him. Prussia stared where the younger nation had so obviously stood for several minutes, mystified and annoyed._

_"Impetuous youth," he grumbled to himself before settling back into his cot._

'What did I miss back then?' Prussia thought to himself. 'What happened to bring him there that night but not for him to say anything? Why didn't I ask anything back then? What is going on with you, Alfred?'

He marched forward with dogged determination, Austria following close behind.

xXx-Dark-Intentions-xXx

Austria kept his silence as he followed his cousin toward Germany's office. Word of the new U.N. building had reached him, too, and he wasn't sure what to make of this latest revelation. Shock was the only word to describe how he felt, and the petty part of him hoped no one had put a single scratch on his piano when they moved it from New York to Canada.

'I don't even know what to do.' The frugal nation wrung his hands. 'How I wish I could just go to my piano and play, pretend this isn't happening.'

He sighed then pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses back into place, knowing retreating to his piano wouldn't solve much of anything at this point. America's actions confused him, they confused the rest of the world, and no one knew what to make of anything that was happening. A small part of Austria insisted America's actions were nothing more than elaborate prank, one that had gone on for far too long, but an overwhelming sensation of wrong and off left him sick to his stomach even contemplating everything as a prank. America was many things – childish, over bubbly and idiotic at times – but one thing Austria had always known was that the younger nation would stick to his morals and convictions no matter what. Once he decided upon a course of action, he saw it through to the very end.

And Austria, _Roderich_ , had a grudging respect for _Alfred_ and his citizens. After World War I . . .

'He could have joined England and France in blaming Germany for my actions,' Austria told himself. 'He could have made Ludwig's punishment all the worst by demanding reparations for himself for all the trouble Ludwig caused him, but he didn't. He didn't believe in it, not after what Britain and France said they wanted, and wanted nothing to do with it or so I was told. How was he able to forgive so easily? Or did he really forgive that easily?' A sigh escaped him. 'I'm not sure why he would have. Germany intentionally targeted his merchant ships and tried to get his neighbor and cousin to turn against him at the time. Was he truly trying to be neutral or was it all a ploy? I'm not sure even I know anymore.'

He almost lost himself in thought, in memories, but Gilbert kicking in Ludwig's door brought him up short.

"America," the albino nation began.

"Ja, he is here," Germany mumbled. Instead of sitting his back straight and his posture perfect, Ludwig rested his head on his desk, his arms folded in front of him. "His delegation is on its vay."

"But he isn't."

"Nein," Germany answered. "As vith zhe other countries he's visited, he is claiming illness and cannot come to zhe meeting."

Inside the door, Austria fidgeted. He'd never seen either of his cousins look so desperate (Prussia) or so despondent (Germany). Granted, he didn't quite have the same relationship with America that they'd had so he didn't quite understand their emotional turmoil completely. A part of him, though, whispered he did understand. America, while loud and often times annoying, had a habit of doing whatever he could to put a smile on someone's face, even if he looked like a fool in the end. The boy apparently had no shame.

"We must," Prussia began.

"Must vhat?" German asked. He only lifted his gaze up to his older brother, not his head. Austria moved forward. "Get there before he leaves? How do you propose ve do that? The delegation vishes to see all of us. Ve cannot leave to ambush him at his own embassy. By the time ve get there, he vill be gone, just as he vas in all zhe other countries. He is making it a point to not see us."

"That is not good enough," Austria snapped. He slammed his hands on Germany's desk, surprising himself with his own actions. In his own right, he couldn't help it. His heart fluttered with fear and anticipation of what was going to come. "We must do something. We can't just stand around and talk about it."

"And vhat do you suggest ve do?" Now Germany sat up straight, his blue eyes glittering. With anger or curiosity, Austria could not say. Reading Germany wasn't as easy as everyone thought it to be.

"Greece and Japan, they call for a world conference, yes?" Austria pulled back, folded his arms across his chest, and tapped his foot. "But no one will do it, hrm? You can, though."

"Me?" At that, Germany blinked.

"America calls for a world conference, you maintain the order. Isn't that what you two agreed upon so long ago? He knows . . ." The realization slammed into Austria's chest, and he had to pause a moment to catch his breath. "He knows no one will take him seriously if he tries so he lets you do all the shouting and getting everyone in line. Is that what that has been all along? You two worked so very well together, once upon a time. A man on the moon? Who would have thought it then? I wouldn't have, and then the way you two work so well together at the conferences while seemingly not? You two have been better friends than what anyone ever realized."

"Perhaps." Germany grinned, if only slightly. He turned his head away, his cheeks a little pink at Austria's proclamation.

"Well then," Austria sniffed. "If that's the case, you should be able to call a world conference, too, and have the same results as America."

"Maybe . . . I shall at least try."

"Call his embassy, too," Prussia insisted. "Get him on the phone. Don't let him leave without us seeing him first. At least invite him over for a meal or something."

"I shall try to do that, too."

Germany picked up his official phone and started to dial. Austria backed away and tugged on Prussia to do the same. They had at least convinced Ludwig to try. And if there was anyone else in the world that had the same dogged determination as America, it was Germany.

"I'll go prepare some food," he said, stepping towards the door. Germany nodded and shooed him out with his free hand.

"Food? At a time like this?" Prussia demanded.

"Yah." Austria sniffed. "America likes my cooking. Always has. Told me once it was better than England's."

"Everyone's cooking is better than England's," Prussia retorted, but he cracked a smile.

Austria returned it without much feeling. Somehow, their inevitable failure loomed over them like a stifling, oppressive blanket. But, if there was anything Austria ever learned from observing America and his interactions with the rest of the world, it was how to be just as determined as the other guy.

xXx-Dark-Intentions-xXx

Germany tapped the end of his pen against his desk, waiting for someone at the American embassy to pick up the phone. By intuition alone, he sensed his boss, a few of their own ambassadors, and the American delegates coming towards his house. America, while in his lands, was most decidedly _not_ with them and giving off some strange, dark vibes. Those vibes skewed Germany's senses, his head pounding from whatever effort America was putting into his actions along with his usual stresses from the day.

Vibes. They were the only way for Ludwig to describe the _wrongness_ and _off_ about what America was doing. The younger nation had somehow become imbalanced, but which way his actions would swing remained the mystery. If he changed his mind about suicide and decided to declare war against China . . .

'I vill side vith him,' Germany decided. 'He stood by me when no one else vanted to. It is the least I can do to repay him. But I must first know vhat he is up to. And vhy vould he vant to declare var on China, of all nations? North Korea or even Russia, I can understand, but China? It makes no sense.'

By the fourth ring, an answering machine picked up. Germany resisted the urge to curse under his breath.

'Diplomacy,' he reminded himself. 'Diplomacy. America is not Italy.'

"Er, hello, Amerika," he began. Oh, how he hated talking on the phone sometimes! "I vas hoping you and I could talk. I . . ." He shook his head. "I vant to say I'm sorry for vhat I said the last time I saw you. I vas not feeling too good myself that day. Ish no excuse, I know. I vish to know vhat is going on. Vhatever it ish, know that I . . . am grateful for all you have done for me. It ishn't alvays easy to remember the good you have done . . . and know I vill never forget all that you have done for me. It vas . . . fun vorking on your space program together. Maybe ve could try and revive it again, ja? I am certain I vill see you vhen your delegation arrives, but if not, I hope you hear this. Ve need to hold a vorld conference, and ve need you present. I . . . vill let you know vhen it ish happening. Ja? Ja." He nodded, embarrassment burning his face. "I hope to hear from you soon. Auf Wiedersehen."

Germany hung up the phone, nausea rolling around in his gut.

If it hadn't been for America after World War I, England and France would have destroyed Germany. The blond nation knew this, understood this, and admired/adored America for it. America had funneled funds to him to keep him afloat. Inflation in his lands had been unbearable, but when America's own economy crashed, well, Germany had been as every bit desperate as his leaders. He didn't hate his Jewish denizens, but they had been so easy to blame at the time.

'I do not blame him for what happened. I blame myself. For being so weak and so . . . unlike-able.'

He snapped his head up. The American delegates and his boss had arrived at his home. They weren't at the door, but he sensed them all the same.

'Time to see what is going to happen.'

Germany smoothed back his hair and glanced at his clock. As much as he hated about what was to happen next, he still had no choice with the meeting.

'Time to get this party started, as America would say.'

He stood up and went to the door. Bright evening sunlight poured in, causing his boss and their American guests to look more like silhouettes than actual people. He tried to plaster on a smile but was certain he'd just managed to make his scary Germany face, as Italy would put it.

_"Dude, what's up with your face?"_

_Germany blinked, his smile slipping away. America stood less than a meter away from him, a puzzled and concerned expression on his face. He crossed his arms and scowled._

_"Vhat do you mean vhat ish vrong vith my face?" he demanded._

_"You look like you took a huge bite of a lemon," the American answered. "Like you're not having any fun at all." He glanced over at their bosses, who appeared as nothing more than silhouettes against the windows, then leaned with what Germany presumed to be a conspiratorial wink and whispered, "It's okay. I'm not having any fun, either. This is boring."_

_"Boring but necessary," Germany growled. Though the two had long since worked out their initial issues after World War II and had made some rather spectacular leaps and bounds in engineering - America's curiosity knew no bounds, it seemed - there were still times when he found the boisterous nation to be . . . too much, more so than Italy. "It ish vhat being a nation ish about."_

_"Yeah, I know," America said with a dismissive wave a hand. "Still, it's weird when you try to force a smile onto your face. Doesn't look right."_

_"Oh . . ." He looked away, slightly embarrassed._

_"You know you don't have to fake a smile around me, right?" America asked._

_"You realize I am required to smile every now and then, ja?" Germany snapped back._

_"Oh really?" America raised an eyebrow at him, a smile playing about his lips. Envy gnawed at him. The young nation made it look so simple, so easy._

_"Just . . . shut up." He massaged his temples._

_"I will if you tell me one thing."_

_"And that ish?"_

_"Is it true? That people from East Germany can relocate permanently here once more?"_

_Germany paused. He, too, had heard that the announcement had been made._

_"I honestly don't know."_

_"Oh . . . Want to check it out?"_

_He opened his mouth to say 'no'. The last thing he wanted to do was get his hopes up over nothing. His country had been divided since the end of World War II, his brother taking an opposing view on politics, and their parting words had been less than kind. America's eyes, bright and curious, drew forth something he never expected._

_"Sure." He nodded. "Why not?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long, long three and a half years since I lost the original chapter six to this story as well as the interlude, Chapter seven, and the beginnings of Chapter 14. I know what the next interlude is going to be and that Chapter Seven focuses on Italy and Romano. Beyond that, I don't know when I'll get to update again as I've got my chapter list in a different location from where I currently reside.
> 
> What has happened? Flash drive crashed, to never be revived again, and I've moved. A lot. Like from Washington state to Pennsylvania to Oklahoma back to Michigan back to Oklahoma and finally landing in Louisiana. Oh, and I've published three original stories to Kindle, Smashwords, and NOOK (NOOK sales are currently suspended while I try an experiment with Kindle).
> 
> So end of chapter references, mainly for Prussia and Germany.
> 
> During the American Revolution, the founding fathers sought aid from both Prussia and France in order to gain independence. Prussia, due to its current relations with England, opted out BUT they sent one of their best generals over to train revolutionaries. The training was rough, rigorous, and, at one point, the Americans trained by the Prussian general were given no ammo and had to use their bayonets alone. If not for that, the colonies may not have survived as many battles as they did.
> 
> For Germany, I have it on good authority from a German exchange student that, after World War I, the U.S. bankrolled Germany. We were paying the struggling Germany's debts to England and France. It didn't necessarily help German citizens at the time, but it was still something. When our economy tanked, so did theirs, which aided in giving rise to one Adolph Hitler.
> 
> ETA: I did take this chapter down to fix it up, expand upon it. I wasn't totally happy with it, and I do want those who are following to take a gander at the additions. Oh, and I'm back in Oklahoma. Still publishing and really languishing on this particular project.
> 
> What has been added? Doubts about America's forgiveness of Germany after World War One. It's quite debatable so adding to Austria's confusion seemed necessary.
> 
> And Ludwig's remembrance of what would be the fall of the Berlin Wall as well as mentioning working with America on space projects. After World War II and American soldiers being stationed in Germany and fraternizing with the people, a lot of misconceptions started to disappear. We might be on shaky ground with our German allies, but I have a feeling it will always hold strong.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Interlude 2: The End of World War 2

_The war had finally ended, at least on the European front. Both Italy and Germany had been caught and interrogated while Japan had escaped back to his lands, though neither of the Italy twins knew where the missing personifications of Canada and America were located._

_Germany had been the tougher nut to crack. His blue eyes had glinted with feverish rage at being dealt yet again with another humiliating defeat. He’d vowed to never reveal what had happened to the two brothers, stating that no one would ever find them. A maniacal laugh had followed._

_Hope, however, had not been lost. A search of all the concentration camps yielded some results, including the rescuing of Canada, and all the remained was some much needed liberation. He stepped forward, surging through the groups of people leaving in huddled masses or on gurneys._

_America sat on the ground . . . no, not sat. Laid on the ground in a ball, his blond hair a muddy and bloody tangled mess. His ribs showed through the thin t-shirt, the only clothing he wore along with a pair of pants. Bruises and cigarette burns peppered the length of his arms and the bits of flesh not covered by his shirt. Blue eyes opened at his approach, and the younger nation cracked a grin. He opened his mouth to speak, understanding in those glassy, fevered eyes, but all that came out was a dry, rasping cough, followed by a weak moan and a pained expression. His eyes fluttered shut, and fear took over. The contented look of peace would haunt him for the rest of his days . . ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally got the second interlude done! W00t w00t!
> 
> I'm going to be heading to Anime St. Louis next month to promote my original stories that I've published. Please read my bio or PM me for more information on the original publications.
> 
> This is obviously set after World War II, when the Allies scoured the whole of Germany for the concentration camps. In my research, I discovered that the German commanders were not quite so forthcoming about them so it would make sense that, at the time, Germany would not be, either. Plus he's not feeling so hot since he did take a walloping.
> 
> This also connects with a previous chapter and will connect with a future chapter. Can you guess which ones?
> 
> Posting this is a late V-Day and an early D-Day entry.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> 1 - According to my U.S. history class in college, America tried to stay out of WWII for as long as possible, but there were many attempts by the countries of England and France to get America into the war. One such attempt was a letter from a German general allegedly talking about an alliance with Mexico for invasion. My history teacher felt that it's possible the letter never truly existed since no American has ever laid on eyes on it. When I find my history books, I'll update this.
> 
> 2 - In searching for WWII facts online, I came across a website dedicated to WWII's timeline. For those of you who don't know, Canada actually declared war on Germany in 1940. America didn't get involved in the war until 1941, shortly after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor.
> 
> 3 - I've found someone from Mexico on dA who has done some comics in regards to the Mexico/U.S. relationship. Given that this person has provided links for the information he's used in his comics, I've tried to represent how Mexico feels and to include that information to the best of my abilities. However, the PoV is for Russia, and I'm going to leave it very unclear as to what it is that Russia thinks he knows and what he truly knows. If anyone wants to provide me with more information, please do so. Knowledge is power. :)
> 
> Addendum - It was World War I with the Zimmerman Letter, where Germany secretly, supposedly sent the letter to Mexico. No one, however and to my knowledge, in the U.S. has actually seen this letter.
> 
> 4 - U.S. recent events from 2011 and 2012; tsunami in Japan (which affected the entire world), the record outbreak of tornadoes in 2011 where the twisters touched down in Tuscaloosa and Birmingham, Alabama, Joplin, Missouri, and parts of Atlanta, Georgia - nearly 1900 reported with an estimated 553 people dead as a result. 2011 is in our history books with one of the deadliest outbreaks in our known history. An earthquake struck Virginia, a powerful one that was reportedly felt as far north as the southern edges of Canada and the southern part of Michigan (where I live). Also, as I write this, Colorado has been dealing with massive wildfires and people from around the country sending aid, and there was a wildfire in the U.P. (Upper Penninsula for the rest of you) that burned up some acreage. After Japan's tsunami and the tornadoes in Alabama, Missouri, and Georgia (only 3 of the 21 states hit with the twisters), many people I know were asking "how come we're sending aid to places like Haiti and Japan but no one's sending us any aid for our tornado and earthquake victims? We should take care of our own first". I believe I've answered that with Canada (whom I find adorable).
> 
> 5 - Going back to point 3, the person on dA has pointed out in his works (which were dated 2010; I haven't gone completely through this person's gallery), that America has been selling guns to Mexican drug cartels. I can see the character of Mexico, no matter who creates this particular OC, arguing with America over the fact and America denying it, not because he's trying to present himself as being noble, but because he truly would believe it would be stupid to sell guns to drug cartels, who in turn use the guns to kill people, both in Mexico and America. So why on Earth would anyone do such a thing? Unfortunately, Mexico is right in this case because one of the national news networks - CBS - investigated the reports, had the D.O.D. deny it, and then a person within the D.O.D. stepping forward, on camera, admitting the truth behind it. As an American, if a person from Mexico had told me my country was selling guns to the drug cartels, I would have said "No, we're not. We're not that stupid." Apparently, our D.O.D. is because the operation name was Fast and Furious, and there is video footage of it happening. I don't know how many Americans are POed by this, but it's something we should be because our own government is betraying us and everything our country stands for.


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